


Riot Across The Stars (My Teammates Made Me Do It)

by Villieldr



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Panth, BAMF Shen, Dysfunctional Family, Families of Choice, Gen, I WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS SUPER TEAM, I'm Sorry, I'm really sorry, M/M, Momma Hen Shen, Odyssey (League of Legends), Questionably Cool Dad Panth, Slight aging down, Slight worldbuilding, Space Mercenaries - Freeform, Space Opera, Stealth Duo Pyke and Twitch, Team Dad Panth, Team Mom Shen, Team as Family, and i wanted to see how some of my faves would interact with each other, and they just spoil Poppy rotten, and we all know those two are problem children, because the Morning Star crew doesn't feel found-family enough, best bros, errr full manic tendencies because it's Pyke and Twitch, especially on Shen's expense, kids with slightly manic tendencies, kinda Space Pirates, much roasting and ribbing, oh god why did i do that, there's an interview chapter because my brain wanted it, with Poppy as the well-adjusted youngest, with the rest as the kids who roll their eyes at the two dorks but still ship them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-09-23 23:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17090111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Villieldr/pseuds/Villieldr
Summary: A series of oneshots and takes on another part of LoL's Odyssey universe.Specifically on a ragtag group of mercenaries. Yasuo's crew could learn a few things from this (dys)functional team.





	1. Somewhere Down The Road (We Tripped On Our Feet)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because every super team needs an intro.

The establishment was as putrid as the planet it was built on. Grimy, dank, reeking with blood, sweat and piss, Kayn was like a lump of gold in a rundown backhouse, his robes glistening with bright colors that clashed horribly with the backdrop. Perhaps it was another reason why the whole tavern went silent when his subordinates parted and let him in. That, and maybe because the patrons have yet to see a Demaxian Ordinal in the flesh.

 _ **Poor fools,**_ Rhaast sneered, his voice almost like it was purring into Kayn’s ear with how the scythe was holstered to the nobleman’s back. _**Haven’t they seen such glory before?**_

A snicker and a hushed whisper caught his attention. Signaling his subordinates to stand watch by the door, Kayn approached the source of the noise, coming to a table occupied by four. One of its occupants, a man-sized rat with light gray fur, looked up and grinned crookedly, displaying his razor-like teeth.

“Ooooh, shiny,” he said, goggles flashing rather maniacally. “Makes me wanna fucking take it and dunk it in one big pile of shrelnuk’s - “

“Twitch, stop. That’s gross,” griped the pigtailed bandoloid sitting next to the rat, roughly elbowing him. “I’m trying to drink here.”

“The ale tastes like piss, Pop. Ain’t gonna be surprised if it really is so don’t even bother,” a bald, heavily scarred man informed, huffing out a laugh before he pinned his gaze on Kayn. “The hell do ya want? We’s on a break. Ain’t takin’ jobs for now.”

The nobleman felt his fury rise. How dare they talk to him like this? With a snap of his fingers, he could have these scum arrested and executed on the spot. Surely they know enough to recognize who their betters are?

_**Now, now, Kayn. Crass cutthroats like these don’t know honor. No use picking on fingerlings when there are bigger fish out there.** _

As usual, Rhaast was right. But his fingers were still itching for the scythe. Maybe just another scar for the bald man, if only to teach him a lesson…

“Master Shen,” Kayn addressed the fourth individual at the table instead, bowing slightly. “I’ve heard rumors you’d be here. I still find it hard to believe they’re true.”

The fourth, another man, this time with his pitch black hair slicked back and tied into a thin ponytail, looked up from his stein. There was a bit of a haze in his storm gray eyes, but Kayn saw the concealed sharpness in them.

“How strange,” Shen started, a familiar accent lacing his words. “I have not been called such in a long time.”

It was obvious that he was about to speak more, but then Twitch, the rat, suddenly burst into a laughing fit, half-spilling his ale on the their table.

“M-Master Shen? _Master_ Shen?” he panted out, curling in on himself. “With how he nags and hens after us? Don’t you mean _Mama_ Shen?”

“Never forget the damn frilly apron,” the bald man added, raising his glass.

Whatever meaning that one statement held for this ragtag bunch seemed to be enough. The rat laughed harder, slamming his fist repeatedly on the table’s surface, and now even the bandoloid was chortling, though she was doing her best to hide it with her hands covering her mouth.

“Ah…aw - fuck. I’m dying. Poppy - fucking resuscitate me - this is too good,” Twitch said between laughs, his eyes watering behind his goggles. “J-Just…remember Panth’s _face_?!”

He and Poppy went on guffawing, having to lean on each other for support with how hard they were laughing. Kayn could tell by now that their little inside joke was at Shen’s expense. His retinal interface whirred with information, but the Ordinal already knew much of the ex-officer’s exploits, back when he was affiliated with the empire. Shen had been known for his impartial judgement and ability to separate himself from his emotions when carrying out the emperor’s will. So it was a slight surprise that a faint dusting of red appeared across the man’s face. Shen glared quite venomously at his seatmates, lingering a little longer on the bald one, before he cleared his throat.

“Pardon my associates and their antics. I see that you are someone of rank in the Demaxian Empire.”

“Ordinal, exactly,” Kayn corrected, his smile possessing just enough openness to it. “Ordinal Shieda Kayn of the Locus Armada. Zed, your peer, was my teacher and upper classman during my climb to my position.”

If Shen’s reaction to ridicule was surprising, the sudden drop in temperature around the table at his words was admittedly jarring. The laughter stopped, and two pairs of eyes fell on him, one red as blood glistening behind cracked lenses, the other a lilac like that found in dawn lilies. The bald man took his feet down from where he had planted them on the table’s surface, his shoulders gaining a tension to them that pulled them taut, his fingerless-gloved hands resting on his thighs, just on top of the belts strapping several serrated daggers to them. The abrupt ripple of hostility made Kayn want to arm himself with his scythe, just out of instinct, and he barely stopped his hand from moving. So these riffraffs knew of Shen’s conflicts with Zed? The man in question merely blinked before he brought his stein to his lips. A small sip and a quiet gulp before he returned his attention to the Ordinal.

“I see. And how is your teacher?” “An Ordinal such as I, of the Umbral Armada. May I take a seat?”

“Of course.” The bald man whipped his head to Shen, an incredulous look to him. “The fuck, Shen? This guy’s - “

“Pyke. Just for now. Please.”

Finally, a name. Kayn was matching faces with the three names at the table, curious as to who Shen was acquainted with. The results were quite interesting.

 _ **What a find,**_ Rhaast hummed as the nobleman pulled the files into his interface for light reading. _**I think the insurgent one would put up an enjoyable fight. The girl would be fun to break…and the rodent pest might end up a nice pelt.**_

By the time Kayn had everything he needed, Pyke was begrudgingly kicking a vacant chair in his direction, grumbling as he did so. With one quick flourish of his wrist, the Ordinal had turned it around so that he could fold his forearms atop the backrest as he sat down, his chin propped on them to complete his relaxed facade.

“The Umbral Armada was supposed to be yours, Master Shen,” he continued, internally pleased that the tavern was picking up from its earlier pause. “It was in the past Ordinal’s will.”

“My friend, discard the title. I have given it up along with my rank and luxuries,” the ex-officer insisted, smiling with his eyes. “And I have my reasons for resigning. I am sure my late teacher Kusho, Zed’s predecessor, would understand.”

Rumors said Shen had learned of something that he shouldn’t, and he chose to run away from sheer horror of it. Others claim his struggle with Zed became too much, and his resignation from his position was also his surrender to his peer. Whatever the reason, him turning his back on his duty had been a great upset among the upper echelons of the empire for many weeks. A number of officers had wanted him as their and Jarvan IV’s unwavering guide in the years to come.

“Do you know of my other peers, Ordinal Kayn? Akali and Kennen?”

“Both had resigned as well, years after you did. Master Akali had gone to do mercenary work of her own, though she sometimes offer her services to the empire. Master Kennen returned to his homeworld, where I’ve heard he had started taking in trainees for the arts.”

Whereas he hadn’t met Shen before his resignation, Kayn had been acquainted to the two aforementioned combat masters once or twice before they left. Akali had been strict and lonesome, and Kennen made up for his short stature with his martial prowess. Back in his days as a trainee, Kayn had wanted to learn more from them. But like Shen before them, they had abandoned ship and fled. Perhaps they somehow knew how weak the empire would become in the future? Or maybe they learned the same thing Shen did?

The Ordinal wanted to talk more about this, but probably in another time, away from prying eyes and vigilant ears. According to the files, two of the ex-officer’s current associates had experience in espionage, if the ora augmentations for stealth listed down was anything to go by. And bandoloids were bad liars in general.

“Is that so?” Shen hummed, taking another sip of his swill. “I have yet to meet Akali in my travels. But Kennen…I will most likely pay a visit in the future.”

“Hey, Shen! You said before that this Kennen guy was from Bandol just like me, huh?” Poppy piped up, moving so that she was on the edge of her seat. “I can show you guys around! Bet I can find Kennen for you too!”

“Hmm. I’ve heard you can find Purple Cloud Mushrooms only in Bandol,” Twitch added as he scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Might need a few for my greenhouse, so count me the fuck in. Howzabout you, Pykester? Heard there are also some natural hot springs up in them Bandol mountains.”

“Whatever the boss says,” came the rather disinterested reply, “…but that does kinda sound relaxin’.”

What was this? They’ve heard of Kennen too? Just how much of Shen did they know? And why would Shen ever tell these washed out nobodies? The longer Kayn sat in that seat, taking in the ambience surrounding the group’s table, the more puzzling the situation was becoming to him. A rare Zauna fauna, a Demaxian Army reject, and a Syndicate-wanted murderer all chatting about taking a vacation in a far-off inhabited moon, with the once legendary Commander Shen watching them, a strange gleam in his eyes…is that _fondness_?

_**Kayn, focus! You’ve got something you want them to do, yes?** _

Right. Of course.

“Excuse me, Shen,” he began, once again amicable. “May I ask a favor of you? A small one, really. You see, I have this person I want to find - “

“No.”

“...pardon me?”

The stare the ex-officer fixed him with was devoid of fondness, or even of the haze that usually came with alcoholic consumption. The sharpness that had been concealed earlier was showing now, an edge that came with being a premier combat master and division commander for many seasons.

“I know where this is going, Ordinal. Unlike Akali, I do not wish to be once again involved with matters concerning the empire.”

”But this doesn’t concern the empire. This one is admittedly more personal - “

“Then hire someone else to do it for you. With the powers of your rank, you can easily find a replacement for me and my group, perhaps even ones better fitted for your task. And it is as Pyke had said earlier. We are on a break following a recent time-consuming job.”

Bewilderment was probably showing on his face by now with how the rat wasn’t even hiding his snicker. Irritation was starting to boil into anger in the Ordinal. How could he be refused like this…!

“Three billion credits,” he tried, loud enough that the tavern was hushed yet again. “Three billion credits if you can track down the runaway known as Sona for me.”

“Ya hard’a hearin’, jackass?” that was Pyke, the sneer audible in his words. “Or is yer prideful elitist skull too damn thick for it ta hit ya?”

Such condescending, indignant _worms_ \- !

The chair tumbled on its side when Kayn stood abruptly from it, his bewildered expression contorting into potential outrage. His right hand reached for Rhaast, the creature hissing in excitement in his head.

“You turned your back on the empire for _this_?” he scoffed, gesturing to the rest of the table with his free hand. “To play woeful nanny to a rabid animal, a clumsy bumpkin outcast, and a manic backstabber? Have you really gone that - “

Of course Kayn expected weapons to be drawn. The tavern was basically a pit for wanted criminals and hired guns. By now, he knew vital parts of the backgrounds of the three at the table to anticipate what weapon each would go for.

But he didn’t expect the ora-imbued blade to come close to his neck first.

Custom made and gifted to him personally by the late Emperor Jarvan Lightshield III for his impartial servitude, Stargaze was Shen’s most famous weapon. It was a katana, a noble weapon from a culture nearing extinction, cutting edge only on one side and made for lightning-fast killing strokes. But to augment it with ora all the while keeping its form, as well as to forge it with one of the strongest alloys in twenty galaxies?

And not to mention that it was a weapon that answered only to Shen, meaning only he could use Stargaze to its maximum output. Jarvan III had it made with the ex-officer’s biometrics and fighting style in mind. It was clear who the former emperor’s favorite was.

The blade was so close, Kayn could hear the hum of its energy, its edge ora gold melting smoothly into the gray-blue of the alloy, like the solar-kissed ice rings of planets in the Frelrima system. From the other end of the sword, Shen glowered, storm gray eyes turbulent, battleguard already masking the lower half of his face.

“Speak of my team like that again,” he spoke, his voice hollowly cold, “and I will show you why Kusho chose me instead of your master, _Ordinal_.”

Rhaast wanted to kill this man, but for the first time in a while, Kayn the human doubted he could. At least not so easily.

Shen glared for a second longer before he retracted Stargaze and slid it back in its sheath on his back, right next to his lesser known blade, Equilibrium. But Kayn was still aware of other weapons aimed on him. Specifically an ora-powered crossbow whose bolts were laced with hard-to-concoct astrabane toxin, a Megaton Hammer reminiscent of the one that belonged to a Demaxian folktale hero, and a jawlserpent-tooth dagger that possessed a severely serrated edge.

“One fucking move, shiny,” the rat hissed, his tongue flicking out to lick at razor-like teeth, “and you either get turned into a pin cushion, a lump of crushed bones, or shredded up ribbons. Or maybe all of the above. Depends on which of us can get to your pompous ass first.”

“You’ve got shitty aim, mouse,” Pyke barked out, never taking his ice blue eyes off his target. “I’ll get ta him before ya even pull the trigger.”

“No one talks about Shen or Twitch or Pyke like that!” Poppy declared, not once looking troubled by her weapon’s weight, holding it high enough to get within smacking range of Kayn’s head. “Even if Twitch smells like a dumpster and Pyke cooks bad enough to burn water.”

“Stinky and proud!”

“Oi! Ya little shit!”

The Ordinal could take them all then and there. Just a few arcs of his scythe and -

_**That smell…Kayn. Kayn, pull back.** _

“Order your men down, Shen,” he snarled, Rhaast’s sudden caution confusing him.

Shen merely blinked at him, a hint taunting.

“I said they are my associates, not my men. I am not their leader.”

And as if on cue, the door to the tavern burst open, and one of the nobleman’s subordinates came flying in, hitting the ground with a tremendous thud. A shadow fell on the downed soldier, a baritone voice ringing out.

“Whose guards are those? They were stupid enough to get in my way.”

The newcomer stood at the doorway, a couple of inches taller than Kayn was. His light breastplate and pants hid much of his figure, but his maroon coat was sleeveless, leaving nothing to cover the thick musculature of his arms. His left hand and arm possessed a gauntlet configuration with a circular ora shield mounted on the wrist, while his right hand was closed around an augmented spear. The boots he donned had high-grade propulsion mods to them, the kind that allowed people to jump incredibly high and far.

Kayn looked up, but he didn’t see the man’s face. A full battleguard hid it from view, its lenses tinted crimson and flashing. The battleguard didn’t go all the way to the top of his head, allowing fiery red hair to stick out in varying directions. The man let out a frustrated sigh that crackled through the vents of his mask before he spoke again.

“One more time. Whose. Guards?”

His growl had most of the tavern cowering and gulping. Except for those at Shen’s table.

“Gods, Panth. What the hell took you so long?” Twitch groaned, disengaging from Kayn to throw his arms in the air, along with his crossbow. “This shiny fuckwad here went and ran his mouth at us, enough to piss Mom off.”

(There was another, quieter groan, this time from Shen. Twitch was never going to let that die, huh?)

“Bet the guards’re his, boss,” came Pyke’s contribution, giving his dagger a twirl before he put it back in its holster on his thigh. “Flashy. Jus’ like him.”

“Maybe they’re mean too,” Poppy mumbled, pouting, her hammer meeting the floor heavily when she dropped it.

“Everything is under control, Pantheon,” Shen reassured, sounding the slightest bit nervous. “No need to get angry. I do not want this to be yet another place we get kicked out of because you happened to have lost your temper again.”

Pantheon? Pantheon, Pantheon…Kayn’s interface went to work, just as the man who was the real leader of Shen’s ragtag group made his way closer. But by the time the taller male was face-to-face with the Ordinal, Kayn only found a few heists and patrol ambushes to Pantheon’s name. No list of ora augmentations, no weapon and fighting preference, not even his planet of origin. No background info at all.

There was a danger to not knowing who your opponent was, but the nobleman felt a heavier, more brooding one just from the feel of Pantheon’s presence alone. It was suffocating, pushing against him in waves that rolled in relentlessly, one after the other. Rhaast made himself known again, growling low, as if he didn’t want to be somehow heard by anyone other than Kayn.

_**Walk away from this one, Kayn. This man…something familiar to him. Something we have to be careful about.** _

“Your guards? They didn’t want to let me in when all I want is a good few drinks with my team,” the leader rasped out, a tumble of barely restrained fury somewhere in his words. “And now I hear you’ve been talking shit at them?”

The spear in his hand glinted once, a flash of golden ora, and Kayn felt like arming himself with his scythe then and there, more out of the urge to protect himself than to attack the man outright.

_**Kayn. Walk away. NOW.** _

Rhaast’s warning…what was with this man?

The Ordinal forced his arm back to his side, to make himself appear less of a threat. He could tell Pantheon was watching his every movement behind the crimson-tinted lenses of his battleguard.

“I am an Ordinal of the Demaxian Emperor,” he said, a flash of his rank, a last ditch effort. “I offered your team a golden opportunity - “

“Do I look like I give a fuck about any of those? I suggest you leave, officer. You will _not_ enjoy what I’ll do with you if you let me.”

If his rank didn’t faze the man, then nothing short of drawing his weapon probably would. Kayn straightened his stance, rolling his shoulders of the prepared tension in them, before he forced a smile on his lips, adding far more edge to it to be considered friendly.

“I won’t forget this,” he hissed in warning.

“And it’s pleasing to know how unforgettable I am, _sir_.”

Pantheon stepped aside, spear propped upright next to him, wordlessly showing Kayn the door. The Ordinal managed one more sneering snarl before he turned on his heel and exited the establishment, barking orders at his downed subordinates once he was outside.

“What are you doing? Get me out of this backwater edgeworld! The stench is beginning to cling to me.”

He glared his men into action then turned it inwards.

“Rhaast. What the hell was that?”

_**…something, Kayn. Something…that man, that Pantheon…no, no. Have they caught me here…? No…but it’s not impossible either, is it…must I tell…?** _

“Rhaast. Answer me.”

_**...** _

“Rhaast?”

_**…Kayn. Have I ever told you about the Cosmic entities?** _

 

~

 

”Good riddance to that shiny,” Twitch spat out, placing his collapsible crossbow on the table as he sat back down. “Fucking rude much?”

“Heard tha’s what happens ta them high rankers in the empire,” Pyke scoffed, back to propping his feet on where they shouldn’t be. “All that power gettin’ in their heads. Makes ‘em think they’re mighty ‘nuff ta get what they want.”

“Glad I didn’t get in the army then. Pretty sure I’ll have a hard time working under jerks like that one,” Poppy huffed out, moving her hammer with a foot so that its shaft leaned against her chair. “And I’m also glad Shen didn’t turn out like that. Can you imagine it? I know I can’t!”

The ex-officer in question merely rolled his eyes before he stood from his seat and approached his leader, noting the way Pantheon was still staring at the door long after Shieda Kayn had left.

“Pantheon?” he called. “What is wrong?”

“That guy. Definitely that guy,” was the reply as the other man powered down his ora shield and deactivated his spear. “There is something really wrong with that man.”

”Indeed. I have sensed something off with Ordinal Kayn. Something I cannot put a name to.”

His storm gray eyes narrowed slightly, knowing full well that Pantheon could hear what went unspoken.

 _But_ you _can, right?_

“What did that Kayn want?”

”A tracking mission. Someone called Sona.”

“Sona? Isn’t she one of those Templars? I heard they’ve been chased to the outer reaches of the universe.”

“Now what would a single Ordinal want with a specific Templar? How intriguing…”

“Oi, boss. Shen. We gonna order up or what?”

“Godsdammit, Pyke. Can’t you fucking see they’re flirting?”

Both men turned to glower at their snooping teammates, one of them a little redder than the other. Twitch groaned again.

“You and your fucking cockblocking. Look, baldy. Just because you’re defensive of our dad, that doesn’t mean you gotta interfere with his love life - “

“Pantheon _ain’t_ my dad, rodent. Now shuddit before I decide ta cut yer damn tail off - “

“You try and I’ll slip something in your next fucking meal - “

“Paaanth! Sheeen! Twitch and Pyke are fighting again!” the bandoloid among them groused, looking utterly exasperated.

To which Shen had a palm meet his face in defeat as Pantheon sighed again.

“Children,” the ex-officer bemoaned, rubbing at the space between his eyes. “I am stuck with children.”

“Well, Shen,” Pantheon whistled, reaching behind his right ear for the button that would retract his full battleguard off his features. “We’ll have to break those two up. The last time we got kicked out was because of their arguing. It wasn’t all me.”

Shen was about to fix him with a withering glare when a crash made the both of them jump. A quick look back showed that Twitch had flung himself at Pyke, and the two were now wrestling on the floor, Poppy merely rolling her eyes at them and having the audacity to look bored.

“Twitch! Pyke!” Shen roared, moving in on the brawling duo. “You two stop and fix yourselves right this instant!”

“Not now, Mom! I still have to gnaw this asshole’s _face_ off!”

”Hold still, ya damn mouse. So I can fuckin’ skin ya.”

Now it was Pantheon’s turn to facepalm, making sure that his thumb went to massage a temple to appease the gathering storm of a migraine taking root in his head. A part of him that wanted to be distracted was already planning ahead. Last he’d heard of that Sona girl, she had escaped the empire and was looking to join a specific group. Which group exactly, Pantheon didn’t know, but he could have Pyke ask around and gather more info later -

“Pantheon! Get over here! I cannot hold these two off on my own!”

Right. Stopping the brawl and not getting kicked out of yet another pub was the priority here. The next team outing could wait.


	2. Campfire Musings (My Head's So Noisy In The Silence)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mandatory team cuddle ficlet.

The moon the crew of the Eboncleaver was currently on was one of those that had enough gravity to hold an atmosphere, and enough of an atmosphere to sustain life. Since it was a relatively small satellite, vast oceans and seas and lakes were absent. The only sea it had was made out of grassy knolls and rolling hills, interspersed with the occasional hardy tree.

Their craft had been made to touch down on a particular knoll a couple hundred of strides away from their campsite. Campsite because Poppy had insisted that they spend this one night under the stars and out in the wilderness. And no one could resist Poppy when her lilac eyes glittered the way they did. Not even Pantheon.

Shen was admittedly content. The life of a mercenary required constant spacefaring, and the times his team decided to weigh anchor and dock somewhere were spent on worlds far more populated than this distant, uninhabited moon. The cool nocturnal breeze was a fresh and welcomed exchange to civilization’s polluted breath. It was a balm to the senses and an effective way to clear his mind. City smoke and belch would just make him want to down more booze to at least loosen himself up. 

He would have to thank Poppy later, for her insistence to camp out. 

A faint snore made him look up from where he was polishing Equilibrium. The bandoloid in question was sound asleep, snugly using Twitch’s curled up form as a pillow to lean on, a pillow with a tail wrapped rather possessively around her. The Zauna rat had lain his head on Pyke’s thigh, both them also snoozing, the former openly drooling. And Pyke was leaning against Pantheon with his scarred head on the elder man’s shoulder. Pantheon who was leaning back against a tree and still wide awake, molten gold gaze to the stars peeking through the leaves. 

The fire crackled and from where he was seated on the other side, Shen could see the shadows cast upon his team, the shadows dancing soundlessly as three of the four went on dreaming. The orange glow of the fire seemed to accentuate Pantheon’s tanned features, the defined cheekbones, the straight nose and angled jaw, the scar bisecting his right eyebrow and running down the eye underneath, reaching the expanse of his cheek, barely touching the side of his mouth… 

The ex-officer deliberately looked back down, storm gray eyes returning to the blade he was cleaning. He had been neglecting his weapons lately, had been slacking off and forgetting to care for them. Now he had the opportunity to do the chore undisturbed. If he let himself be distracted by other matters, he wouldn’t be able to finish it at all. 

But now he was interested. Curious. What was Pantheon looking at beyond the stars? What was he seeing?

To which Shen halted his actions again, as the obvious answer came to him. It was solemn, as solemn a man his leader tended to be, and put a little weight on his heart. Weight he didn’t want to acknowledge just yet.

“...you miss them,” he began, after a few seconds of internal debate, “do you not?”

Shen didn’t expect an answer. He had only heard of Pantheon’s story once and the other hadn’t bothered to repeat it. It went unsaid that it wasn’t to be mentioned or talked about ever again. It was one of those unspoken rules among the crew, the kind of rules that even Twitch respected and practiced.

And while he was sure Pantheon wouldn’t lunge at him for it unless he wanted to wake the others up, he was more than sure that the other wouldn’t reply to his opener.

Which is why the soft, resounding sigh made him blink a tad owlishly, along with the words that followed it.

“Every single day. It’s…a pain that never goes away. Always there to remind me what I once had, who I once had been.”

It was a reply that made the weight in Shen’s heart a little heavier. He moved to apologize, but Pantheon beat him to it, his grave features making way for a lighter, more peaceful expression.

“But the pain lessens the longer I stay, and I can counter that reminder with the fact that I have new people to look after.”

The redhead turned from the stars to set his gaze on his teammates sleeping beside him, a rare smile pulling at his lips, molten gold eyes warm and glistening with fondness.

“New people who make every single day worth my while.”

Then he directed his gaze at Shen and their eyes locked on each other. Peace and Pantheon scarcely ever met halfway, with how volatile and violent the crew leader could be. But Shen might as well have seen it all in the years spent with this dysfunctional bunch. And he knew that the sight of Pantheon living in peace with himself and the rest of the universe was one of those beauties he was lucky to have witnessed on his own.

…he hoped the warmth on his cheeks was just the campfire burning a little too closely. Yes.

“I think it’s time we both turn in for the night, Shen. Follow the examples of our team and whatnot.”

He gave Equilibrium one more check before he huffed and slid it back in its sheath. That would have to do. At least Stargaze didn’t require as much attention. The cool of the night was slowly getting to him, sleep already nipping at the edges of his consciousness.

Shen set aside his sheathed swords, right on the log that had unceremoniously become the crew’s weapon stand for the night. Pantheon’s shield-generating gauntlet and spear, Pyke’s cherished set of daggers and hooks, Poppy’s singular hammer and Twitch’s toxin-laced crossbow and bolts. He made sure to place his swords on the other end of the line, after the Zauna rat’s equipment. Seeing their weapons aligned like this brought a sense of fulfillment to Shen.

“Where are you going?” Pantheon asked when he stood up, already a step out of the camp.

“To get my mat,” the ex-officer answered, looking over his shoulder. “I had forgotten to bring it with me when we left the ship. It would be enough for me to sleep on here.”

His leader stared at him for a second longer before he shook his head and patted the free space on his right.

“Forget the mat. You can settle down next to me. It’s warmer too.”

Shen had to break eye contact again, gulping quietly. His storm gray gaze found the Eboncleaver in the distance, a distance that could be easily covered by foot in a short amount of time. But a part of him seemed to disapprove altogether, spitting at the notion of more movement - more _work_ , and he internally cursed because his teammates’ lazy habits were getting to him, first with his weapons, and now this - when there was already a comfortable-looking spot available for him, a spot right next to…

How did Pyke put it again? Oh yes. He was _fucked._

But he was just too tired to delve deeper into that, just too tired now to trek through the darkness for a thin sleeping mat. So he sighed, turned back around, and walked over to the other side of the fire, to the invitation open just for him.

It was with a little stiffness that he sat down, back to the trunk of the tree, just enough space between him and his leader to be considered friendly. A space that was subconsciously lessened when he realized that it was indeed warmer here, and his body reacted by scooting closer towards the warmth. By the time he and Pantheon were shoulder to shoulder, sleep was already blanketing his mind, curling around it in a haze.

“This…is nice…” he slurred, right before he let the lids fall over his eyes and lost his grip on the waking world.

And Pantheon smiled at that, just as he spared the distant stars one more glance.

“It really is,” he agreed, his words swallowed up by the amicable silence as he finally went to sleep.


	3. Ain't Answerin' Ta Anyone Ever Again (Bullshit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He isn't moping. He really isn't.

Whoever said the universe was a place full of adventure and opportunities only ever had those in their entire life. Adventure and opportunities and only the kinds of hardships that came with them. Whoever the hell said that had hands whose calluses came from stirring ships and taking treasures and smacking their crew around. Hands like those didn’t know true grit, didn’t have to reach into shit to get what they want as long as someone else could do it for them.

Pyke had been born into a nomadic troupe that answered to no single captain or emperor or master. There was a circle, a ring of matriarchs and patriarchs that communed every now and then on where to steer their ships, but they broke off afterwards so that the loosely-knit community would be able to continue with their roles, roles they had chosen for themselves.

For the life of him, he could never remember his mother or his father. The troupe didn’t stop for the slow and the sick, so Pyke could only assume whoever carried or sired him had been left behind. With no world to call home, the nomads were always on the move, attracted only by skirmish sites and hunting grounds to scavenge and loot what they can. Pyke’s earliest memories were of wrestling and fighting, him against other children of the troupe, just for scraps and grub they could feed themselves with.

So there was no heartache when he left for more. Not even a look back. He took the step forward and showed strangers his skill with the knife, his familiarity with killing, and got hired to slay space beasts. It was easier to flash one’s potential when still young. And Pyke had barely been in double digits when he started.

He jumped from crew to crew, a hired dagger whose name just got bigger and bigger with each behemoth he took down. He’d been content with his life then. He got both money and thrill from each job, and at the rate he had been going, he would have been prestigious in no time. No more having to fight just to get a piece of morsel in his belly, no more having to force himself to keep moving if he didn’t want to get left behind.

Then he answered the Syndicate’s summons.

He’d already worked with the group several times before, and they paid well each time. For saving a particular head honcho’s ass from being monster food, he got on their good graces easily. Benefit packages reached him even months after he last affiliated himself with them.

And he’d been thinking of joining them for good. He’d made several friends with them, experienced camaraderie absent among the nomads, and by _stars_ did it make a job several times worth its gravity. He had wanted more of that too.

It was painful to see how naive and trusting he was back then.

Naive enough to think that his severed safety line was because of the skirmish with the jawlserpent. Trusting enough to wait as he floated in the emptiness of space, guts and gore of the kill surrounding him, blocking him from view, but no, they’d come back for him. They’d come back for him before he ran out of air. They’d come back for him.

They didn’t. He should’ve been dead by then. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

Jawlserpents were the primary predators of the ora whale pods. They only ever grew as big as they were - the biggest one ever sighted could wrap itself around a small moon twice - because of their prey, or specifically, the resource their prey produced. Their bodies ate through ora fast, building up their bulk and might with it, but there was enough left over in their blood to power a propulsion jetpack for at least ten stellar miles. And while Pyke wasn’t a propulsion jetpack, he was a man who wanted to live.

He still bore that scar, right above his heart. The jawlserpent tooth he used to impale himself with had become his favorite knife, and he carried it around so that he wouldn’t forget what naivete and trust almost cost him.

The silence of the observation deck was broken by the slide of the door opening behind him. He’d chosen the place farthest from the medbay so that he wouldn’t have to ~~hope~~  hear. Whoever found him lying on the floor by the full viewing window must’ve brought news with them. And from the faint whiff of something moldy, Pyke knew who it was.

“How’d it go?” he asked, not even bothering to turn his head from where it was plastered on its side on the floor, facing the stars just beyond the glass.

“It’s a’ight,” Twitch answered, clawed feet skittering towards the bald man. “The metal didn’t hit anything vital. The second I took it out, his body went to work. Didn’t even have to stitch the wound up. Gave him a little more ora for a booster though. He’ll be up and running in a few hours.”

Pyke didn’t understand. He’d seen all kinds of blood before, most of which he’d reaped from his kills, beast or man. So why did the image of Pantheon looking up from the hugeass shrapnel on his side haunt Pyke? Why did it feel like his hands were still wet with his boss’ blood even after he’d dried them vigorously on a towel, almost rubbing them raw?

He growled at the kick to his hip, glaring over his shoulder and at his teammate.

“Stop fucking moping and move your ass. I want a view of the stars and you’re taking up the good spot.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ mopin’,” he shot back, but he got up anyway.

He fixed himself into a haphazard lotus as the rat simply plopped down next to him. Twitch sniffed at the air, frowning.

“Smells like fresh blood,” he mumbled, then tsked. “You’re fucking wounded.”

Pyke pressed his left hand to his right arm, just below the shoulder. But he still knew it was futile, especially with a nose as sharp as Twitch’s.

“I ain’t,” he lied, and he winced at how pathetic it sounded.

The wince must’ve translated into something else if the rat’s foul breath became more apparent. A quick sideglance showed a snarling Twitch, and Pyke was familiar enough with his teammate’s anger - invoked it even, on nearly a day-to-day basis - to know that this was more than just irritation. He was stirring up the wrath of the crew’s makeshift medic.

“ _Bullshit_. You can’t lie to my fucking nose,” was the seething reminder, followed by an equally heated threat. “You know the fucking protocol. Don’t make me sedate your shitty ass.”

The worst part of that statement was that Twitch had done exactly that to him before. Once. And though Pyke had woken up without difficulty, he hadn’t been able to move his body for _hours_. He didn’t want a repeat of that.

So he let out a deep, long sigh before turning around in his seat, back now to the stars as he faced the door. Pyke’s right arm now available to him, Twitch wasted no time. A small bottle of antiseptic, a couple of cotton balls, and a leftover strip of gauze were taken out of multiple pouches on his belt as he grumbled under his breath and tended to the rather deep wound.

“Fucking stubborn like his fucking boss…birds of the same damn feather…”

Once upon a time, Pyke wouldn’t have let anyone touch him or get this close to him, let alone tend to his injuries. He’d built up a resistance to most forms of infection anyway, so his wounds ended up leaving scars on his skin, rendering it a dark patchwork of crisscrosses and gouged flesh. He could even endure beating after beating due to the jawlserpent’s processed ora, as long as he could get away after and recharge by himself.

Which was how he had been able to take down the Syndicate fleet that deserted him. He hadn’t stopped until he gutted every single crewman, until he blew up every single ship.

 _Ain’t answerin’ ta anyone ever again_ , had been his last thought as he sped away from the remnants of the fleet in a flimsy, stolen dart. 

He hadn’t thought he’d be a team player ever again. But the universe liked to fuck with everyone in it. Years down the line and he was…he has…

Panth and Shen and Twitch and Poppy…were they what people called “family”? At least to him? Because they weren’t anything like the nomads, and it didn’t seem like camaraderie was all they had. And _fuck_ , Pyke knew he’d do _anything_ for them by now, as long as they were happy. And fucking safe. And Pantheon - Panth got hit. Panth got hit and it was because -

“I jus’ had ta pick that job, huh?” he suddenly voiced, and the strip of gauze being tied to his arm tightened a tad, meaning the makeshift medic had heard him. “My greed, my fool damn pride wanted somethin’ big, somethin’ that paid buckets’a credits an’ rep. Look where it - “

“Did you know those goons were waiting for you guys?”

“Well…no - “

“Did you tell them where and when the ambush would be perfect?”

“What the - _fuck no_. I’d rather cut both my hands off first - “

“Then stop fucking whining. You and the boss were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And Pantheon’s an idiot for not bringing his fucking shield with him. Seriously, you almost never see the guy without it. The one time he leaves it, he gets a shrapnel in his gut as long as my forearm.”

The irony of it was admittedly hilarious, and it pulled a huff of a laugh out of Pyke. He turned his head a little to the side so he could watch the rat’s fingers put on the finishing touches.

“Bet Shen’s still scared shitless,” he humored, half-smirking.

“When I left him with Panth, it looked like he was a second away from grabbing his hand,” Twitch stated with a synchronized roll of his eyes, impressive for someone who had them on either side of his head. “Makes me wonder which’ll come first really. Shen confessing or Panth finally getting a clue?”

“None’a those. Poppy’s gonna crack before either of the two will happen.”

“Huh? Our precious, peppy Poppy cracking? But she’s too…well, now that I think about it, it does sound like the most possible of the three. The peppy ones tend to go mad first.”

“That what happened ta ya? Can’t imagine ya bein’ peppy an’ all.”

“I’d out-pep Pop if I wasn’t this crazy.”

The bald man raised an eyebrow at that. He didn’t believe it one bit. Twitch responded with another eye roll before he pulled away from his patient’s arm, finally done with tending to the wound. Pyke moved his arm so that he could examine the handiwork, leaving his teammate to gaze at the stars.

“Hey, Pykester. We’re the only ones with stealth mods in the crew.”

The call came after a few minutes of silence, making Pyke wonder just what spurred that statement from the rat. He scoffed, masking his curiosity.

“No shit, mouse.”

“So we’re usually the first ones to see an attack coming.”

“Whaddaya goin’ on about?”

“I know you’re still gonna fucking mope and whine for weeks after this - “

“I told ya already. I ain’t fucking - “

The next glare Twitch fixed at him actually made him tense, made him stop his sentence and shut his mouth with an audible click. It wasn’t that he feared his teammate’s ire that much, but there was something uncharacteristically raw and painfully sober in the rat’s glower. He wouldn’t say it aloud, but Pyke pretty much preferred the usual haze of mania in Twitch’s blood red eyes over…this.

“As I was fucking saying,” the rat seethed, but his glare lightened up some, “instead of that, you gotta do something. Make fucking sure it don’t happen again. Watch these idiots’ backs a little more carefully. Tell them to duck when something trips all the alarms in your head. Take out fucking anyone before they could even __think__  about harming Pop or Shen or Panth.”

He turned away, looking back out into space. He had spoken the last statement with a slight growl to his voice.

“You and me both. We can do that. Nobody’s better at stealth than us.”

And Pyke only managed a slow, slightly disbelieving nod at that. Twitch was never one to give _sound_  advice. The only advice he ever imparted with sounded more like mumbles of insanity and should never be taken to heart unless one was as mad as the rat.

Or seemingly mad, if this moment of lucidity was anything to go by.

“...you okay there, mouse?” the man decided to ask, after another pause.

Twitch blinked, then blinked again, before sighing and running a hand from his face down to the tip of his snout.

“Fucking antiseptic fumes make me fucking sober,” he grumbled, shaking his head, as if he could rid himself of his lucidity. “My mind likes to go to shitty places when I’m fucking sober.”

He hoisted himself up on his feet, dusting the seat of his coat. He leered at the stars one more time before he headed for the door.

“Gonna go to the greenhouse. Get some of the good stuff in me. Can’t fucking handle myself like this.”

“...oi, Twitch?”

Pyke felt like he should say it. But his tongue refused to worked, out of pride or embarrassment or the sheer unfamiliarity of the words “thank you”, he wasn’t entirely sure. So it ended up with him staying stupidly silent as he and his teammate kept their gazes connected.

But Twitch must’ve heard his intention anyway. One side of his snout curled up, and while it looked like half a smirk, it didn’t feel like it.

“Don’t mention it, asshole,” was his parting shot before he left, the door sliding shut behind him.

And Pyke was alone again, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. He looked down to the dagger strapped to his right thigh, and remembered how he got it, when he first used it, all the men he cut down with it, the old promise he had made with himself.

 _Ain’t answerin’ ta anyone ever again._  

So. He was probably one of those people who liked to break promises, huh?

In that case, he wasn’t going to take Twitch’s advice as a promise. Not when he could actually do it. Not when he could effortlessly execute it. No one in the crew was going down on his watch again. He would cast his eyes to the shadows for anything that would threaten his team, keep a hand on the dagger that kept him alive and use it this time to keep his family safe.

Once upon a time, he said he was never going to answer to anyone again. Now, he knew who he would give his all for, consequences be damned.

(He owed it to Poppy, whose joy and pep were so damn contagious, easily lighting up the drear of any situation.

He owed it to Twitch, the fucker who looked after their injuries and kept him on his toes, always ticking him off yet also cracking jokes with him.

He owed it to Shen, who constantly kept an eye out for them, ready to teleport to their side, and whose cooking saved the team on several occasions.

He owed it to Pantheon, who took him in when no one else, not even himself, ever would, and had the patience to deal with his thorny, venomous ass and teach him new things and show him everything he had missed.)

He looked over his shoulder and at the glass of the viewing window, seeing the ghost of a smile on his reflection.

“Well,” he breathed out, getting up, fixing his bandanna so that it hid the smile. “Time ta crash the Shentheon parade.”

(Someone said before that the universe was a place full of adventure and opportunities, but Pyke figured he didn’t need it.

Not when the people who could provide him with those and so much more were just an arm’s length away.)


	4. Homecoming (We've All Got A Place For It)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That field trip mentioned and planned for in the first oneshot.

The twin moons Bandol and Quaria were surrounded by legends and folktales concerning their origin. Some say they used to be one planet, split apart by some cosmic event, with the ancient land making up Bandol, and the primordial seas shaping into Quaria. Others claim the barren world they revolved around had once flourished with life, but the race that had been inhabiting it angered their gods, who retaliated, taking away all natural resources from that world and transferring them to the moons, where the race could not reach them. Starved and weakened and humiliated, they died off, and left their world finally void of living things, cursed to never support future lifeforms ever again.

Whatever the myth, whatever the origin story, Bandol still came out beautiful and green and abundant.

And Poppy was happy to see its green, abundant beauty again, after so long a time of traveling across starways and hopping from planet to moon to planet or vice versa. Though she never really got too homesick, being back on Bandol, in her small hometown of Knollhaven situated just on the very edge of the forest, made her feel great. There was something in the grass, in the fresh breeze, in the flowers and fruits and general _being_ of Bandol that couldn’t be found anywhere else. Sure, it didn’t have the fathomless oceans and underwater ora mines of Quaria, but she was proud this was her home. And the team she had been spacefaring with for two years and a half now would finally be able to see it.

…if their respective agendas didn’t take them too long, that is.

The crew of the Eboncleaver had arrived on Bandol days ago, and while Poppy had shown them around Big City in the middle of the Prairie, the team had decided to split up for the time being. Shen had gone to visit his old friend Kennen, who lived on the other side of the Prairie from Poppy’s hometown, Pantheon accompanying him (and that prompted a shared look among the rest of the crew) while Pyke and Twitch went to the mountains just north, the former to exploit the famed hot springs there and the latter eager to retrieve new samples for his greenhouse. She had the tracker Shen had given her, just so that they knew where to meet up. They had agreed to spend the rest of the week at her hometown.

And honestly? She was possibly even more excited than when they first set foot on the moon.

She had arrived in Knollhaven the night before yesterday, but the passing time seemed to just crawl on. She had strolled around the village the next day, catching up with her fellows and offering help where she could. Yet no matter what she did, no matter how much stuff she got done, the day went by too slowly for her.

Which was why she was already up and running just shy of the start of the second day. She tried to burn off some of her excitement by getting some chores done, but after those, there was still enough left in her to keep her wide awake. So she had nothing else to do but climb up the hatch of the nook she had lived in since childhood and settle on the roof to watch the sunrise. It wasn’t long before she realized that she had missed doing this as well. Back when she was younger, she used to do this a lot, usually with a mug of hot kicker berry juice to warm herself up with. She didn’t have one now, but maybe she could go make some…

“Poppy dear? Are you up there?” rang a voice from inside the nook.

“Yeah, Mama! I am!” the younger bandoloid replied, not taking her eyes off the ball of light beginning to crest the horizon. “Sorry I woke you up!”

There was a clomp-clatter of movement as her mother Aster popped her head through the open hatch. A slight sheen of sweat glittered on her brow, her short hair pulled back into a bun, save for a few bangs framing the right side of her face.

“Don’t be, honey,” she reassured, ducking down for a second to bring out two mugs and place them on a roof tile. “Here. Like we used to, huh?”

Poppy nodded happily, taking one mug as she scooted to the side, vacating enough space for Aster to occupy. Her mother hauled herself out the hatch before settling on the space with a sigh.

”Oof. Looks like I’m not as spry as I used to be,” she admitted, rubbing at her hip. “What got you up so early that you cleaned up the nook and didn’t end up sleepy enough to get back in bed?” 

She turned to her daughter, seeing her take a sip of her kicker berry juice. But she still caught the faint shade across Poppy’s cheeks.

“Oh, it’s nothing, Mama. Just…couldn’t keep still, you know?”

“It’s because of those friends of yours, right? The ones coming here?”

The younger bandoloid’s eyes widened, and Aster was quick to hold her daughter’s mug, right before she could drink some more and potentially choke on the beverage. She couldn’t help but grin at Poppy’s spreading blush though.

“You’re really excited, aren’t you, Poppy?”

“Well, of course! I want them to see the place I grew up in! I want to show them around, have them meet the other villagers…”

Poppy paused, blushing again. She looked down, lilac eyes to the bright yellow contents of her mug.

“...and have them meet you,” she finished, sounding horribly shy.

Which was wrong because Aster knew her daughter. Poppy was almost never shy. Ever since she learned how to talk, the girl would speak what was on the forefront of her mind. She even once called a neighbor ugly because of it. When she got timid, it was because she feared she’d get turned down, or because she knew it could warrant her a tongue-lashing. And Aster couldn’t exactly remember the last time her daughter ended up like this. She had even announced her decision to try and get drafted into the Demaxian army with nothing but resolve in her gaze and in her voice.

“Honey,” the elder called, reaching up to fix her daughter’s bedhead hair with one hand, “what’s wrong? I’d be delighted to meet the people you’ve traveled with. What’s got you so glum?”

“Mama…they’re…” Poppy trailed off, hesitating, biting her lower lip before proceeding. “Well, they’re not…exactly in the right most of the time. I mean, Shen keeps the others in track since he’d served for the empire before, but…he can’t actually stop them, you know? So even he could be found on the other side of the law.”

 _And also because he has a crush on our leader,_ she wanted to add, but she could spare Shen some embarrassment, even if he wasn’t around to hear. 

“A-And I go with them too, you know? They don’t really force me or whatever, and Panth sometimes benches me in the case of more dangerous jobs, b-but that still doesn’t change the fact that I’ve done things that could, uh, put me in jail.”

Aster’s silence was getting to her, and Poppy sought to quell it, rambling away while still avoiding her mother’s gaze.

“But I enjoy being with my friends. I really do! Even if Twitch gives really shady advice, and Pyke likes to stab things first before asking. They…they make me happy, you see? And it makes me think that not getting in the army was…was pretty fortunate for me? Because I wouldn’t have met them otherwise. I don’t care about where they’re from or how crazy they can get. I care…”

She finally looked up here, and _there _.__ There was Poppy’s resolve. There was the determination and unflappable will Aster knew her little girl had. It made her eyes shine, brighter than the dawning sun really, and her golden locks became a sort of radiant halo around her head. The smile arcing her lips was small, but it still portrayed all the joy she felt when talking about her team, when thinking about them.

“I care so much about them,” she said and her words were clear and strong and true. “So much. They’re really important to me and…please don’t stop me from being with them.”

Her mother blinked, then blinked again. The younger bandoloid was about to say more, probably prolong the judgment that was surely in store for her, when Aster swept her in a hug, engulfing her in her arms.

“Oh, honey. When have I ever stopped you?” came the soothing reminder, wrapping around Poppy like a second pair of warm arms. “When can _anything_  ever stop you if you care that much? If these people make you so happy, then they must be good too.”

Poppy put down her mug just so she could hug her mother back, burying her face into the offered shoulder, and her ears perked for more of those calming words.

“Being right doesn’t always mean being good, my flower. Right minds know the law and make sure they can live by it, but good hearts know the law can’t dictate when and where they want to be good. Your friends must have reasons for what they do, and I won’t judge them for that. And it’s as you said, isn’t it? They keep you away from things they think are too dangerous for you. They want to keep you safe. They care about you too.”

Aster pulled away so she could take her daughter’s face in her hands, her thumbs automatically swiping away the thin trails of liquid on Poppy’s cheeks.

“And Poppy, flower, I know you. I know you wouldn’t get caught in a bad crowd that easily. You’re like a…goodness detector. You believe in the goodness of a person. And when that person spends time with you, you bring out that goodness.”

“And they can’t resist me,” the younger female added, grinning past her tears. “I can tell. The four of them might be tough guys on the outside, but they’re softies inside.”

“With that smile and that cute face of yours? Bet you’re the apple of their eyes, honey.”

The mother-daughter duo shared the resulting laughter. By now, the sun was nearly fully up, just the bottom of it still sitting on the horizon, its morning rays beating down on the two bandoloids gently. Aster cast her gaze to the forest on her left, her eyes squinting when she caught movement.

“Uh, Poppy? What’d you say your friends were again?”

“Three humanoids and a big rat, Mama. Why?”

“Because I think I saw three humanoids and a big rat over there - “

“What?! Where?!”

The elder pointed to the forest’s edge, where there was indeed a group of figures making their way through. The two in front, one of them a hunched, tailed fellow, were talking with each other, but with the sharp tones Aster was picking up, they were most likely arguing. The man immediately behind them stopped and waited for the fourth of the party, who was dragging something huge behind him…

“It’s them!” Poppy exclaimed, her face breaking into the widest grin Aster had ever seen on her girl. “It’s them! They’re finally here!”

Aster would probably never forget the mini heart attack Poppy gave her when the younger all but jumped off the roof. She called after her child, peering over the edge to see Poppy running over to the new arrivals.

“Honey! Wait!”

“Guuuys, over here! Come on! Right - oh my _gosh_. You killed a Prairie hound?! You’re so _cool_!”

Prairie hounds were considered pests by Bandol natives. They prowled in the seas of tall grass, diving through the blades and snatching up livestock when they could. The clever beasts tend to find ways through the fences and barriers the Bandoloids set up, and were just too agile to catch. Poppy used to be able to scare them away with her hammer, but when she left, the beasts made their return, ruthlessly killing the wembas and cyowts the villagers had raised.

And yet these people managed to slay one. Aster had no idea why they decided to bring its carcass with them, but this told a lot about the team Poppy had been with for more than two years. It was an impressive first impression.

Aster downed the last of her kicker berry juice before she leaped after her daughter. She considered it lucky when her hip didn’t give way when she rolled into the fall, but decided to brisk walk instead of run like Poppy did. She arrived just in time to see her girl tackle the first two newcomers, her arms latching around their waists in an embrace.

“Twitch! Pyke!” she cried out gleefully, grinning up at the men - er, the rat and the man. “You’re here! How were the mountains?”

“Full of useless, non-poisonous plants, pipsqueak,” Twitch, the rat, groused, smiling at her crookedly. “Took me a while before I could find those mushrooms. Pykester here almost fucking cried when he saw the hot springs.”

“Don’t listen ta the rodent, Pop,” the other one, Pyke, retorted, a hand coming up to pat his bandoloid teammate on her head. “He jus’ cranky he ain’t got a lotta them ‘shrooms. We had ta get back ta the ship ‘cause’a him. Asshole wanted ta put his precious plants in the greenhouse A-S-fuckin’-A-P.”

“They’re not plants, you fucking idiot. They’re fungi - “

“Do I look like I give a shit?”

Poppy rolled her eyes at the new set of arguments, letting go so she could run up and hug the third man.

”Shen! Shen! How was the visit with your friend?” 

“Very good, Poppy,” he replied, hugging back briefly. “Kennen said he would like to meet you someday. He had not heard of a bandoloid strong enough to wield the Megaton Hammer before. Perhaps he would teach you some of his techniques as well.”

“Really?”

“Really. And, ah…”

Shen looked behind him and at the red-haired man effortlessly hauling the body of a beast more than twice his size after him. The fourth arrival blinked his golden eyes, looking a little annoyed.

“I already told you, Shen,” he said, sighing. “I can carry this on my own. Stop worrying.”

To which Shen gave an uneasy nod before turning back to Poppy.

“This…Prairie hound, you called it? It resembles one of the coreworld species my old teacher Kusho used to make meals out of. Perhaps I could replicate his preparations. It seems big enough for your fellows to share among them.”

And here, Aster couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped her. All eyes were immediately on her, and she could feel how some of them gazed at her warily.

“This would probably be the first time we’ll have Prairie hound for breakfast,” she started, her voice relaxed despite the wariness. “But if my girl says that you cook real good, Mister Shen, then I look forward to what you’ll make out of that thing.”

There was a slight pause before Shen walked toward her and came down on one knee. He took her right hand and graced it with a polite kiss, his storm gray eyes meeting her lavender-hued ones.

“You must be Poppy’s mother. Pardon our sudden arrival, Ma’am.”

”Oh, please. You all can call me Aster. It’s great to finally meet the people who had been taking care of my daughter.” 

Out of the corner of her vision, she saw Twitch and Pyke look away, the former coughing into one long-nailed hand while the latter tugged the ragged bandanna covering the lower half of his face a tad higher. Softies indeed.

The man at the back dropped the Prairie hound he had been dragging so he could come over to them. There was a sort of stern air around him, leaving an impression that he was one of those people who didn’t smile all that much.

“Your daughter has been nothing but an amazing addition to my team, Miss Aster,” he informed, “and there were many missions we wouldn’t have been able to do without her. On behalf of the crew of the Eboncleaver, I thank you for raising such a wonderful and admirable young woman.”

“Aw, Panth…” Poppy murmured, wiping away her newest batch of tears with the back of her hand.

Aster couldn’t help but get a little misty-eyed as well. She went to take the man’s - Pantheon, was it? - hand, but stopped as he recoiled rather harshly.

“I apologize, Miss Aster. I’m afraid my hands are…a little too dirty,” he explained to her shocked expression. “It’s from when we skirmished with the hound. I haven’t had the time to wash them so…”

Looking around, the elder bandoloid could see the signs of the struggle with the beast on the rest of the men. It was in Pyke’s equally soiled hands, in Twitch’s ruffled fur, and even in the streak of mud on Shen’s forehead, barely covered by a few pitch black strands of hair. It took team effort to take a Prairie hound down, the Prairie hound they now offer as a gift not only to her, but to the whole of Knollhaven. To Poppy’s hometown.

And it made her grin. She was right about Poppy knowing when people were good, and being able to bring out the goodness in them. So she reached out again, not even stopping when Pantheon sputtered out.

“Miss - “

“It’s just a little dirt, honey,” she reassured, wrapping her fingers around his thicker ones, grasping just tight enough to show him how much she appreciated what he and his team did. “And it also shows that you are a good, respectable, and hardworking being.”

She made sure to meet his golden eyes, before she looked away to acknowledge the rest of the ragtag team.

“All of you are. And such people are more than welcome in our village.”

She turned back to the leader, smiling up at him, her lavender-hued gaze twinkling with unshed tears.

“ _I_ thank you. For looking after _our_ girl.”

It was Pantheon’s turn to look taken aback, and he managed a stiff yet firm nod at her words. He looked down at the tug on his free hand, finding his youngest teammate staring up at him.

“C’mon, Panth. I’ll show you guys around, yeah?”

“That’s a great idea, dear,” Aster agreed, letting go so she could walk in front of them, coaxing them to the village entrance. “I’ll get someone to bring that Prairie hound in. You boys should get some rest. You’re our guests, after all! We’ll make sure your stay here will be enjoyable.”

Her daughter followed her lead, Pantheon letting himself be pulled along, the other three members of the little crew sharing a look before they went with them. Poppy made a show of sniffing the air when Twitch waddled beside her.

“Hey…you don’t smell bad for once, Twitch!”

“That’s because Shen made me take a fucking wash when we stopped by the Eboncleaver.”

Behind him, Pyke let out a rather sinister laugh.

“Threatened ta ban the mouse from his garden, he did,” he added, grinning like a shark behind his bandanna. “Ain’t seen anyone scurry ta the bathroom that fast before.”

“Shen’s such a fucking mom, I swear.”

At the eye roll the man in question gave them, the three burst out cackling. Pantheon craned his head to them, staring at them all in exasperation, but Aster still caught the fond gleam in those golden orbs.

Yeah. These were good people Poppy found and made a family for herself.

(And maybe that was why she never got that too homesick at all. How could she when she went and got herself a new home?)


	5. Lab Rat (Get Me Out Of Here)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one rescue prompt no one asked for.

Twitch was a rat that had been lucky enough to get stowed away on a ship.

That was that.

That was his boring-ass origin story. Nothing special to it. No tragic past like Pyke, or a need to get away like Shen, or some quest of self-fulfillment like Poppy. Not even a mysterious background, though the gossip-weavers tended to go with that. No, that was Pantheon’s shtick. Wasn’t so mysterious with his teammates since they knew his story, but eh. Still had that desired effect on outsiders.

But back to Twitch…yeah. That was it.

(Truth was…he didn’t remember. Or rather, he _couldn’t_ remember. How could he when all he was back then was some mindless, drooling animal that didn’t know anything other than hunger and scavenging and the basest sense of self-preservation?)

So there was not much of a life to flash before his eyes. Instead, the circular buzzsaw whirring above him filled that in quite easily. Amplified because he didn’t have his goggles to stave off much of the glare. It was more of an annoyance than something to fear, now that he thought about it. Especially when the saw’s operator cackled like some wannabe mad scientist.

“Interesting…your heart rate barely even went up a tick,” aforementioned wannabe informed, sounding gleefully excited. “Are you that resigned already, my specimen?”

Really. Just look at the guy. Their head literally looked like a wrinkly, sunburnt mass of chewed up meat. Or someone’s ripped out testicle that had been stomped on by spiked cleats. Or a fetus pulled inside-out through its tiny anus. It wasn’t at all disgusting to him (because this _is_ Twitch being talked about here), but it wasn’t as appealing either. He’d seen rotting carcasses that looked far more appetizing that this guy’s noggin.

“Resigned? More like fucking bored,” he corrected, rolling his blood red eyes at the last word. “Seriously, the boredom’s gonna kill me first. Especially with all your fucking monologuing. Geez, you really like sound of your own voice - _ugh!_ ”

An elbow to the gut was still pretty painful, _especially_ when said elbow was fucking pointy. For a guy with an oozing mass of day-old gore for a head, they had really thin limbs.

“Distraction won’t help you this time, animal! Shut your primitive - “ 

“I get it! I get it! I’m just some brainless Zauna fauna that shouldn’t have escaped the zoo in the first place. But if you just wanted to see what effects the fucking ora augments have on me, you could’ve checked my fucking bloodwork. Easier and less time-consuming, isn’t it? Why even cut me open?”

He wasn’t prolonging the inevitable. He was just trying to help the poor idiot. As makeshift medic of a bunch of assholes, he knew his way around medical techniques. Well, _some_ of them. He was just a makeshift medic after all. He didn’t go to some fancy doctor school to get some fancy doctor degree for a fancy doctor license. He just…learned from what he saw others do. And his concoctions tended to do their job.

…95 percent of the time, that is. But they still worked. Kept the crew alive for years now, didn’t they? Or was that Shen’s cooking?

(And speaking of the crew, where the _hell_ were they?)

The wannabe smiled at him and _fuck_ , were those teeth? They looked more like termite-eaten pegs with how decayed they were. And the _gaps_ in them. The windows to the guy’s soul were not the beady eyes, but the cavities in their godsdamned teeth. Even Twitch knew what floss was. He could probs share some of his with the pitiful bastard. It wasn’t like he was using them that much anyway.

(“At _least_  practice oralhygiene,” Shen had pleaded with him, handing him a box of high-grade, stronger-than-petricium-cables dental floss.)

“But cutting lab mice open is _much_ more fun,” said the grotesquely-faced chump. “I just love watching them squirm and squeal as I have my saw shred their tiny chests open.”

“Really? You fap to that too, you sick _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!_ ”

It hurt. It hurt like that bitch he had a fling with a long time ago, when he told her she was one ugly-ass motherfucker and she dug five out of fifteen of her knife-like teeth into his fleeing behind. Wasn’t his fault she couldn’t handle the truth. Sensitive much?

(“ _GET THE FUCK OVER HERE!_ ” Pyke roared, daggers out and ready, when Twitch, piss-drunk and dizzy, puked on his lap then made a run for it.)

But still. It. _Hurt_.

It hurt a thousand times worse. It was like fire, fire on his right arm, where the buzzsaw was cheerily biting into, fire that was going up, up, up to his brain, licking stripes off the meninges and carving furrows into the gray matter, his mind blowing up in a burst of white nothingness, nothingness because he couldn’t think of anything else, anything other than _hurts hurts fucking hURTS _-__

And it felt like years before the fire subsided into a teasing little ember just in the back of his blurring consciousness, before his screams petered off and died down into chest-heaving gasps for air. His head flopped to the side, his cheek meeting the cold metal of the examination table he was manacled to, his hazy gaze finding his mauled arm, seeing liquid red and white flecked with gold -

“How fascinating! It seems that the stealth modifications affect even your skeletal system, my specimen.”

Oh. Oooh. So that’s what the white was. It’s his humerus…or was that the ulna? Which arm bone was the bigger one again? And the gold stuff in it was ora? That was pretty…pretty neat. Who knew he could learn a lot from having his forearm cut open like someone’s demented birthday present?

He could have that rift of a wound fixed. Nothing a little ora and his homemade potions couldn’t handle. But he doubted he could ever hold his crossbow steady ever again. He was fucking right-handed. Why didn’t the fucker saw through his left arm instead?

(“Boy, you’re holding your weapon wrong,” was the first thing Pantheon ever said to him, making him jump ten feet up in the air and swear worse than any drunken spacefarer because the man had scared the _living shit_ out of him.)

“I must have a sample,” he heard the sicko mutter, repositioning the buzzsaw so that it was perpendicular to the horizontal limp of his arm. “Your internal organ systems can wait. I can extract your humerus and examine it. Would your marrow be the same color as that of a regular Zauna rodent’s, or would the ora augments change even that?”

Screw holding his crossbow steady. If the stupid fucker got what they wanted, he wouldn’t be able to hold anything again with that hand. Sure, he could have metal rods replace the missing bone, but he didn’t fucking want that. Didn’t want anything metal and bigger than a pinhead inside of him ever again. Including that shitty buzzsaw. _Especially_ that shitty buzzsaw.

His struggles were weak and pathetic and while he _wanted_ out, the rest of him just wasn’t into it. Maybe he was in shock. Maybe the fucking pain ate up his mind and his brain and his spinal cord. Maybe that was why his body wasn’t giving its all. There was nothing telling it what to do. It was like he was fucking powerless. Too powerless to get away.

(“C’mon, Twitch. Please?” Poppy asked, with her big, lilac eyes and that pout to her lower lip and _fuck_ , the rat was powerless to resist her plea.)

“Finally afraid, I see?” the charred-scrotum-headed freak chuckled, powering up that accursed torture tool for another go. “Yes. That’s right. You should be.”

Twitch wasn’t afraid. He just wanted fucking __out__. He wanted out of here and back in his room on the Eboncleaver, back among his poisonous lovelies in his greenhouse, back with Shen’s motherhenning and Pyke’s annoying mug and Pantheon’s horribly blunt conversation starters and Poppy’s damn infectious pep and fuck. __Fuck__. He wanted to be back with them so. Fucking. _Bad_.

(He didn’t care if his pillow was Pyke’s thigh. He didn’t care if Poppy was using _him_  as a pillow. He didn’t care if Panth or Shen were probably still awake and stewing in unresolved sexual tension nearby. It was nighttime, they were all camping out in the open, and he felt fucking sleepy and warm and safe.

And he rarely ever felt the last two, let alone _all three_ of them at the same time. With these four idiots, he did. With these four idiots, he wasn’t just some runaway from a petting zoo the size of a planet or the craziest rodent the universe had ever seen. With these four idiots, he was…he was - )

His ear twitched when it felt lips brush too close, the scientist fucker leaning down to whisper to him.

“Squeal for me, mouse.”

And from the shadows of the lab, a painfully familiar voice growled.

“Only _I_ can call him that, ya fuckin’ jackass.”

There was a rush of air just near his ear, right where the fucking wannabe bitch leaned over him. His hearing fizzled out for a second, and when it came back, it was to the sweet, sweet noise of the buzzsaw being turned off. He opened his eyes - when had he closed them? - to a tall, muscular figure in maroon rushing over to him, his vision still hazy with pain and panic. But he recognized that particular shade of red hair, and it had him crying out.

“Pa…Panth! _Panth_!”

He flinched at the hand on his head, instinctively expecting a blow. But the fingers there merely went on to thread through his fur, their rough pads rubbing soothing lines on his skin.

“I’ve got you, boy,” Pantheon rumbled, deactivating his full battleguard so Twitch could see his face. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

There was a rustle and tearing of cloth, and Twitch hissed when his injured arm was disturbed. When had he been released from his bonds? Didn’t Pantheon see the hugeass wound in his probably partially useless arm?

“Hang on, boy. I need to stop the bleeding. I’ll wrap it up in a sec.”

A second that felt like another year of burning agony to Twitch, but he gnashed his teeth together to cage the scream clawing up his throat. He didn’t know when it ended, but then his wrapped limb was tucked to his front as Pantheon lifted him up in his strong arms, holding him close to his thin breastplate.

“G-Get me out of here,” Twitch muttered, curling in a little closer to his leader’s body heat. “P-Panth.”

He didn’t see it, but the expression that crossed the redhead’s features had been absolutely _murderous_. His arms wrapping a little tighter around his prone teammate, Pantheon looked for his other companion, finally finding him facing one corner of the lab.

“Pyke, we’re leaving. Twitch needs medical assistance at once. He’s losing too much blood.”

The heavily scarred man looked over his shoulder, ice blue eyes glinting predatorily.

“Gotcha, boss,” he replied, his bandanna down so that his grin revealed teeth sharpened by jawlserpent-derived ora. “Lemme finish this one first.”

He turned back to his handiwork. The shitty son of bitch that even _dared_ to fuck with one of his own was sitting on the floor, back to the corner, each of their hands pinned to the wall by a serrated dagger, innards dangling from the gaping rip in their belly, dousing their white coat with sticky, yellow blood. Pyke crouched down, still grinning, taking out a spherical device from one of the bags strapped on his thigh and showing it to the barely breathing scientist.

“Now, I ain’t privy ta bombs an’ shit like ‘em,” he began, twirling what was apparently an explosive on the tips of his fingers, “but they get a job done quick. An’ messy. Used ta pick up a few back in my mongerin’ days, jus’ in case I couldn’t kill a beast with my blade alone. People? Easy ‘nuff prey. Squishy, an’ armor’s artificial. You?”

From the bomb, he slowly turned to the wheezing fucker, his cold gaze connecting with their fearful one. He didn’t look away, even as he all but shoved his arm through the scientist’s belly and up into what was potentially the ribcage, didn’t flinch as they howled into his face. He started up the bomb before pushing it further in, making sure it sat snug among organs, right next to something that was beating erratically.

“You’s a beast,” Pyke continued, snarling, retracting his arm from inside the scientist slowly, “A beast that fuckin’ made the mistake of takin’ what’s _mine_. Takin’ him an’ hurtin’ him an’ - “

He paused to breathe in. But he knew he wouldn’t forget the series of screams echoing down the corridor he and Pantheon had done their best to stalk silently through. Suffice to say, they had tossed caution to the wind the moment the screaming stopped.

Remembering that sheer _terror_  he felt, that _dread_ that they might had been too late, made something in him clench tighter. His hand stopped short from exiting the body, and the urge to __tear__  through more flesh, more vital, precious innards was suddenly a little too strong to -

“Pyke,” he heard his leader say, the baritone of his voice placing weight to his name. “We have to leave.”

Another inhale, and Pyke was able to push that urge down. He took his hand out, quickly snapping it back once like a whip to remove most of the yellow blood clinging to it. He gave the gasping scientist one last glance before he stood up and came to his leader’s side.

“’M done. Managed ta arm the bomb,” he said, his stance stiff. “Once it goes off, it’ll be quick. An’ messy.”

Pantheon replied with a grave nod then broke off into a jog. Pyke followed close behind, right through the door and out the lab, the both of them ignoring the curses and pleas of the pinned scientist. The younger of the two men sprinted to the elder’s side, his attention to the shivering rat in his leader’s hold.

“...oi, pal,” he called, ice blue eyes losing their edge. “How ya doin’ there?”

It looked like Twitch was unconscious, with how he didn’t respond for nearing a minute. But then he was cracking one eye open, half-lidded and bloodshot.

“...’m feeling…f-fucking shitty as hell,” he rasped, and Pyke didn’t miss the way he cradled his bandaged arm closer. “That asshole b-better be dead.”

There was faint _whump_  behind them, the ground shuddering with the resulting shockwave. The scarred man smiled at his teammate, part-reassuring, part-vicious.

“He is now.”

(“…stay,” uttered Twitch, hours after being rescued from the crazy bastard.

Pyke looked around the medbay. Poppy had crawled into the rat’s bed earlier, and was now asleep by his left, her back curling into his waist. Shen sat by the other side of the bed on one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs, also resting with his head on top of his arms that were folded on the mattress. The small couch by the far left wall of the room was occupied by Pantheon, whose long legs dangled over one end, his eyes closed and his breathing even.

And Pyke thought that three of the team present should’ve been enough. But it looked like Twitch had been far more spooked than any of them ever thought. The man wanted to revive his teammate’s kidnapper, if only to kill them a second time, most likely via ripping them apart limb by fucking limb.

He’d been silent for too long. Even in the dark, Pyke could see how anxious Twitch was getting. And that was just wrong. So he closed the door behind him, walked up to the bed and jumped, coming to sit cross-legged by the rat’s feet, relieved that he didn’t wake either Poppy or Shen up.

“’M right here,” he grunted, letting Twitch’s tail wrap loosely around his arm. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere. Now shhh. Sleep.”

Twitch stared at him for a second longer before nodding, turning on his side so that he could curl around their bandoloid teammate a bit. Pyke sighed quietly, his head falling to his chest. It was a good thing the Eboncleaver had been put on autopilot then.

Because it seemed like now that the crew was back together again, they could all rest soundly.)


	6. Here's To The New Day (Fuck The Morning People)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick look into domesticity among these idiots.

How does a day start in the Eboncleaver? Here’s how it usually goes.

The first ones up would be Pantheon and Pyke. They wouldn’t have breakfast yet, not with just the two of them. Instead, they’d get up, get dressed and armed with their preferred arsenal and get in the only two-man dart the ship has. Then they’re off to scout the area the Eboncleaver currently drifts through. It’s to make sure no one had crept up on them while they’d been sleeping. If they find a non-hostile planet within the vicinity, they touch down and see what jobs are up for the team to take. Other than that, their excursion is usually brief.

And because of this, Shen makes sure he gets breakfast prepared by then. He’s the next one to wake up. He kinda has to since he’s the team ~~mom~~  cook. Because it’s still relatively morning according to the ship’s clock, he isn’t in full gear just yet. Shen in a tank top and a pair of sweatpants with his hair up in a more haphazard version of his usual do is a common sight to wake up to. Bonus points if he’s wearing his frilly apron. He lets the youngest two members of the crew sleep in for a while longer. Poppy is still a little young in his standards for her to get less than eight hours of rest, while Twitch was usually the last one of them to get to bed. It takes him around an hour to get the meal ready. If he still has time before Pantheon and Pyke return, he performs a few katas as a warm up.

When the two come back, it’s Pyke who goes to wake up his younger ~~siblings~~  teammates. He takes a quick shower and changes into a lighter set of clothes before he strolls to Twitch’s and Poppy’s rooms. He doesn’t actually go in, opting to bang and holler at their doors instead. He’s loud enough to rouse the other two from their beauty rests. And fast enough to make a break for it before Twitch could even open up and fling something at him.

Because Twitch isn’t a morning person. Twitch isn’t a person _at all_ before he gets his coffee. Which is why he’s the next to shamble into the kitchen, immediately claiming his seat on the table, right next to Pantheon, who is checking the datapad for more jobs and the current news. He doesn’t even manage a grunt in greeting, just sits his ass and drops his head on the table, whiskers twitching as he watches Pyke set the table and Shen transfer the food over from the stove. He doesn’t need to say anything really. Pyke would just place a mug next to his muzzle and Shen would fill it up with his sweet, liquid ambrosia. Twitch takes the first few sips of his coffee black and hot, just so his thought processes could get that instant kick, before he’s coherent enough to mix in a horrendous amount of sugar and milk, enough to make a kid’s teeth rot and fall out in seconds. By the time he drains his first mug, the team is whole.

Poppy gets up last. She doesn’t bother to tie her hair up yet, so she’s usually the one with the wildest bedhead present at the table because while Twitch looks a bit like a fuzzball that grew legs overnight, fur doesn’t count, no matter how frazzled and clumped up it is. She gets juice instead of coffee because she doesn’t like the stuff. While she isn’t as cranky as the aforementioned rat is, she’s the kind who’s a little one-tracked in the morning. She’s running her crummy, still-partially-asleep engines for Shen’s cooking and could only utter “hmm” and “okay” until she gets some grub in her. It’s alright for her to go first because she tends to eat _a lot_. Especially when Shen made the food. She’s getting seconds when Pyke and Shen finally settle in with their team.

After meeting the Eboncleaver crew at least once, one would think that not a second goes by without some sort of noise coming from the dysfunctional group. There’s always something to chatter about - or argue, in Pyke and Twitch’s case - that there isn’t really a dull moment with them. Which is a bit of a paradox because two of them are capable of stealth. How they manage to keep their mouths shut for long enough is sort of like a mini mystery.

But the Eboncleaver crew isn’t noisy _all_ the time. As evidenced in the first few minutes of breakfast. They eat and drink in near silence, the scraping of utensils (or claws, because Twitch still likes to eat with his hands sometimes, much to Shen’s chagrin) on plates the only noise in a while. None of them are sure why they’re like this during the initial phases of the morning, and none of them really care that much. The silence doesn’t feel stifling or uncomfortable. It’s that sort of silence shared between ~~families~~  dysfunctional yet highly efficient mercenary teams.

(Shen usually eats with one hand that’s armed with chopsticks, because his other is on Twitch’s nape and languidly stroking and combing his fingers through the Zauna rat’s fur. Poppy isn’t sitting straight, but rather, she’s leaning on Pyke as she mows through her third serving. Pantheon looks away from the datapad to pour himself more coffee or juice, but lingers away a little longer so that he could distribute the chosen beverage into other empty mugs as well.)

This will go on until one of them breaks the silence. It’s usually Pantheon, who does this little sound of interest before he narrates to his crew a particular article he found while scrolling through local pockets of databases. The others respond promptly. By now, they’re all lucid enough to speak their minds. They share their opinions, crack jokes where they can or start a series of debates. Pantheon makes sure the topics he chooses are ones that won’t lead mild debates into fisticuffs. The last time that happened…well, they had to buy a new table to replace its shattered predecessor, replenish their supply of coffee since Twitch spiked all of it out of spite, and rely on takeout for a week because Shen refused to cook. No one wanted a repeat of that.

On average, their breakfast takes around two hours, more if that day’s topic had inspired more remarks from them. They tend to part ways after the meal. Pantheon stays in the kitchen to take care of the dishes, Poppy helping him out and putting away any leftovers. Shen and Pyke proceed to the training area where they spar for the next hour and a half, the latter happy to count how many times he’d managed to topple the former. The spars are also interspersed with a little gossip from the planet Pyke and his boss had checked out in their scouting, if there had been any. Twitch is content to attend to his many lovelies in the ship’s greenhouse. He makes sure to water and fertilize them daily, and adjust the solar lamps accordingly. If there’s a plant ripe with toxin for him to harvest, he does so right away, humming off-key to a song he’d heard a while ago.

The crew would go like this, attending to their respective agendas for a while. That’s until the boss calls for everyone to the bridge, reminding them to come in full gear. When they’ve all gathered, Pantheon announces the top two jobs he’s managed to narrow down the list to. The Eboncleaver team tends to go for those that pay above average, and those would take at least a few days to complete. Pantheon has his team choose which job to take, with him as the deciding vote in the case of a tie.

Once they’ve chosen which of the two to take, the crew of five buckle down and man their stations, sending the ship into slingspeed towards their course. The trip is usually quick, and they arrive within minutes. From here on out, it’s showtime for one of the most sought after mercenary groups in ten galaxies.

And since it’ll take days before they complete their current quest, their morning routine would be put on pause. They might end up planetside for the duration of their job. They could split up to cover more ground in less time. Either way, they always come back to their silent mornings and peaceful breakfasts, even if partially hungover from the night before, when they celebrated yet another success in some shitty bar in the middle of nowhere.

It was something of theirs. And they’re more than happy to keep going.


	7. Short Interview With The Eboncleaver Crew (Thank Oshi For His Patience)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tidbit of character exploration...with a minor character I will probably never use again.

**Oshi:**  Good evening, gents and lady. Really gotta thank you for your time.

 **Poppy:**  Huh. Well, he’s polite.

 **Pyke:** ‘S the polite ones ya hafta look out for, Pop. More likely ta stab ya in the back.

 **Twitch:** How long is this gonna be, bucko? I’ve got a fucking greenhouse to attend to.

 **Pantheon:** *clears throat* Team. I believe you have to…

 **Shen:**  *raises eyebrow at Pantheon*

 **Pantheon:**  …behave yourselves. Be at your best.

 **Shen:** *nods* Indeed. My apologies, Mister Oshi. The crew is not quite used to social interaction outside of what we tend to have.

 **Twitch:**  *muttering* Spoken like a true mom - fuck! Poppy, what the hell?!

 **Poppy:** *retracts her elbow and sits up straighter* Panth said to behave, Twitch.

 **Pyke:** *snickers*

 **Twitch:** *hissing* You’re fucking hypocrites.

 **Oshi:** It’s alright, Shen. And just Oshi is fine. I’d like all of you to be at ease. And to answer your question earlier, Twitch, this interview can be quick. If you all cooperate, that is.

 **Pyke:** Get served, rodent.

 **Pantheon:** Pyke.

 **Pyke:** …yeah, boss. Sorry.

 **Pantheon:** And Twitch. Don’t even think about baiting Pyke in.

 **Twitch:**  *shuts mouth*

 **Oshi:** Judging from this interaction, I take it that Pantheon here is the leader. If so, what are the others’ roles?

 **Pyke:** *raises hand* Professional backstabber.

 **Poppy:** I knock people back with my hammer!

 **Twitch:** Providing gunfire - er, crossbowfire. And oh, the good stuff. I make the fucking good stuff for the crew too.

 **Shen:** I make sure everyone stays at their relative levels of insanity. The “killjoy”, as two of the team says.

 **Pantheon:** In _other_ terms, Pyke is our infiltrator, Poppy our defender, Twitch our marksman and medic, and Shen our strategist and my right hand. Shipwise, there are no definite roles. Anyone can steer the Eboncleaver, or man the artillery, or is at least knowledgeable enough to make basic repairs. We make sure of that.

 **Pyke:** ‘Cept the rat can’t drive since he can’t see shit when it’s right in front’a him.

 **Twitch:** Cut me some fucking slack, baldy. My eyes are on the sides of my fucking head. I don’t got binocular vision like you damn stupid humies. No offense to the interviewer. 

 **Oshi:** None taken! In fact, I’m quite amazed with how casual you are with each other, even with an outsider in your midst. Are you guys always like this?

 **Shen:** *groans* Worse. So much worse. These two bicker like children every single day, on any given topic. Poppy either cheers them on or ignores them, and Pantheon says the quarrels are “good” for them. I am honestly surprised I have yet to fall to their level of madness.

 **Twitch:** *scoffing* You’re probably crazy already, if you deal with us on a day-to-day basis. Crazy enough to have a cr-

 **Shen:**   _You_. Not. One. Word.

 **Pyke:** He’s blushin’. Ain’t that cute?

 **Shen:** *glares*

 **Poppy:** Hey…that kinda looks like the same look my Mama gives me whenever I do something that ticks her off.

 **Pantheon:** Team, I think that’s enough picking on Shen for today. Push him around too much, and we’ll be eating takeouts instead of homemade for at least a week.

 **Oshi:** Oh? Shen cooks for the crew?

 **Twitch:** He’s the god of our damn kitchen. His creations bring us life and joy and a sense of fulfillment.

 **Pyke:** *bows head* Amen.

 **Poppy:** *leaves seat to hug Shen* Please don’t starve us.

 **Twitch:**  *whispers to Oshi* You hear that tone of hers? No one can resist Poppy when she sounds like that. She pairs that with her big eyes and _wham!_

 **Pyke:**  Even the boss goes weak in the knees. ‘S a powerful weapon. An’ our last resort when shit hits the fan an’ knocks it over inta hell.

 **Oshi:** I see…

 **Pantheon:** *groans and shakes his head*

 **Shen:** *sighs and returns the hug with one arm* I do not think you will even let me, my dear.

 **Poppy:** *grinning* Nope! Not when Shen makes the best food! 

 **Twitch:** *whispers to Oshi again* Me and Pykester think she’s turning into an evil mastermind. She’s beginning to realize the power she has over us.

 **Oshi:** *blinks* …and…you’re okay with that?

 **Pyke:** *shrugs* Eh. Better than most thin’s we’s been through.

 **Oshi:** What was Twitch actually about to say? The one that managed to rile your teammate up?

 **Shen:** I am afraid that is a private matter. The kind all five of us _agreed_ to not speak of to others?

 **Twitch:** *looks away, grumbling* Sorry, Mom.

 **Oshi:**  I apologize as well. I had forgotten that there are certain topics within your group that an outsider must not pry.

 **Pantheon:** Not your fault, Oshi. It just so happens the boy over there has a habit of running his mouth too much.

 **Twitch:** *throws his hands in the air* I said I was sorry! You don’t have to get on my fucking tail too, old man!

 **Oshi:** “Boy”? I’m sorry. Did I…hear that right?

 **Shen:** You did. Believe it or not, Twitch is only around 23 in the Standard Aging System. He is the second youngest -

 **Twitch:** *snarling* And I still fucking _hate_  that fact.

 **Shen:** \- right between Poppy, who is about 20 SAS, and Pyke, who is estimated to be 25. I myself am 37. Pantheon is…far older than he appears to be. 

 **Oshi:** But he doesn’t look that old?

 **Pyke:** Ya’d be surprised.

 **Oshi:** I’m very intrigued about that one. But I have a feeling it’s one of those closed-off topics, yes?

 **Pantheon:** *nods* Unfortunately. If you knew, we’d either have to kill you, or take you with us and never release you.

 **Pyke:** But the Eboncleaver’s already full, an’ the crew roster ain’t got an openin’ for new recruits. So we’ll most likely go with the first option.

 **Shen:** Pyke, be nice. But he…has a point, Oshi. The team is already working well as it is. Having a new member would take some getting used to, and you seem like too decent a man to be associated with us. I hope I did not offend you.

 **Oshi:** No, no! Not at all! I’m sensing you guys are rather protective of each other, yes? With it, you seem much more than just another troupe of mercenaries.

 **Poppy:** Oh! Oh! Can I say something about that?

 **Oshi:** Go ahead, milady.

 **Poppy:** We care about each other a lot, you know? Even if it looks like we’d kill each other or drive one another crazy most of the time. But that’s one of the things that comes with being a family, right?

 **Shen:** Ah…

 **Twitch:** *coughs into hand* …’scuse me.

 **Pyke:** *tugs bandanna higher up his face a bit*

 **Pantheon:** *blinks* 

 **Poppy:** *smirks and folds her arms across her chest* Boys. They won’t admit it aloud, you know. And they can get real disgusting and bossy and annoying sometimes. But I still love them. Really! Nothing’s ever gonna change that.

 **Oshi:** *smiles at her* And I believe you. You’ve got a big heart, Poppy.

 **Shen:**  *embraces Poppy again* She _is_ the team’s heart. Valuable, precious and she never fails to put smiles on our faces and warmth in our souls each and every time. We wouldn’t be complete without her.

 **Poppy:** *hugs back, teary-eyed* Aaaaaw, Shen. Thanks! And thanks to you guys for taking me in. Wouldn’t know where I’d be right now without you lot.

 **Twitch:**  *grins* How about in the Demaxian army? Getting brainwashed and trained into one of their mangy - _ow!_

 **Pyke:** *rolls eyes* Yer ruinin’ the moment, rat. Oi, boss. You okay there?

 **Pantheon:**  *clears throat* I’m…fine. There was something in my eye.

 **Twitch:**  *grins wider* Oh _really_?

 **Poppy:** *gasps* Panth! Don’t cry! Gotta hug you too!

 **Pantheon:** *stutters as he gets an armful of bandoloid* What - I-I - No! Just…fine. 

 **Twitch:** *pulls both Pyke and Shen with him* Group fucking hug! Bwahaha! 

 **Pyke:**  *growling* Getcher damn claws off’a me, ya rodent - !

 **Shen:** Twitch! Do not yank too hard! I almost stepped on your tail -

 **Poppy:**  Yaaay! The more, the merrier!

 **Pantheon:**  *left eye spasms* G-Guys…can’t…breathe…

 **Oshi:**  *smiles again, chuckling* Hah. Think I'll give you guys a moment here. Thanks for your time.


	8. Regrets (I Should've Let Them Know)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You ever done things you end up regretting? Yep, this is mine.
> 
> (Takes place a few years down the line. Probably.)

****__“_ Parents are not supposed to bury their children,” Kusho said to a very young Shen and an equally juvenile Zed, during the final funeral rites of Lyanna Lightshield, Jarvan II’s only daughter. “It is the greatest grief one can ever experience.”_

_“But what if I do not want to have children?” Shen asked, a curious counter that Zed approvingly nodded to. “Then I am free of that grief, yes?”_

_The smile Kusho gifted them with was far more mysterious than his usual ones. The two boys had heard once that their master was capable of milliseconds of clairvoyance, future sight, and while they did not believe in that, the golden shine in the man’s eyes was making them wonder._

_“There might be people in the future. People who could become such to you, my pupil. People who make you question your sanity and that of theirs, make you bloat with stress and want to scream at the stars, make you tired and weary and feeling bared to the bone.”_

_“Master…” that was Zed, frowning as he blew snow white hair out of his crimson eyes. “How can one even stay close to people like those?”_

_That mysterious smile stretched into a grin, and Kusho went to place a hand on each of his students’ heads, lightly toying with their locks and invoking muffled giggles from them. Behind the trio, the Emperor of the Demaxian Empire placed a wreath around his daughter’s brow, his last gift to her._

_“It is because, my boys, that is what families do. And yet you will love them all the same.”_

__

~

 

So. That was what Kusho meant.

To the outside world, Shen and Pantheon were staring at three of their teammates huddled in the corner of a closed-off room, bloodied and silenced and dead. Perhaps, outsiders would think, they were wondering where to dispose the bodies. Factionless mercenaries like them would have a harder time finding burial grounds for their dead. Usually, the corpses went to the ship’s incinerator after everyone had said their farewells and taken part in the rites. The resulting ashes would then be gathered and spread among the starways, where the spirits of the departed would fade and become one with astral dust and dark matter.

But Pyke, Twitch and Poppy were not just teammates. No.

They were Shen’s children.

Shen could tell because the longer he stared at their unmoving forms, the bigger the hole in his chest yawned. Bigger and bigger and he felt that he couldn’t breathe, that he _shouldn’t_ be breathing at all. His children, all three of his crazy, infuriating, wonderful, remarkable children, were dead. He felt like he should’ve died with them.

But the next breath came, and it was _damning_ , a hellspawned reminder that no, he was _still_  alive. He was alive while his three adoptive kids were dead and gods, he was never going to see Poppy smile again, or hear Twitch’s triumphant cackle, or watch Pyke get back at Twitch, all the while he, the “Mom”, tells them to stop their mischief and to take a hold of themselves and he was missing them already, missing them and aching for them and something in him had shriveled up and withered into dust the moment he laid his eyes on their bodies and _gods _-__

The world seemed to tilt on its axis, bringing Shen to his knees, one hand coming up to crumple his vest, right above where his heart should be because it. _Hurt_.

And he wanted it to _stop._

He wanted it all to be a dream, a nightmare, maybe even a prank his two boys had come up with, roping their sister with them because _haha, Shen, you should see the look on your face!_

_Scared shitless, Mom?_

_Ya gone whiter than fuckin’ bone._

_We’re just kidding, Shen! Fake blood, see?_

But no. None of them were getting up. None of them were grinning at him in that shit-eating way, quick to make fun of him in front of their leader, ready to bail from his wrath, but coming back with their tails between their legs later on so he could cook them dinner and - and if he promised to make them his best for their next meal would they - would they wake the hell up -

They were dead. They were never going to wake up again.

And acknowledging that one fact again made the hurt flare hotter.

He was barely aware when he curled forward, forehead to the ground, a dolorous bow to his dead as his mouth fell open in a silent wail, when he closed his eyes to the tears in them, storm gray breaking for the mourning rain, when the hollowness in his heart swallowed up everything that he was, everything except his turmoil, his despair, his stone-cold, lead-heavy grief -

The shaking hand on his back did nothing to dispel any of that.

So this…this was what Kusho meant.

 

~

 

The following days would find what was left of the Eboncleaver crew back on Bandol. Instead of in Big City, the ship had been docked close to Knollhaven, cloaked with reflectech so that anyone giving chase wouldn’t be able to find the two survivors, wouldn’t even think that they had sought refuge in a far-flung village on one side of the Prairie. They were mercenaries. What planet would take them in?

Except the people of Knollhaven had declared them honorary bandoloids, in what felt like a long lifetime ago. The Eboncleaver crew could come back anytime they wanted, and they would be welcome to. Knollhaven became their second base of operations, their unknown sanctuary, the place they could hide and rest and unwind.

For now, it was where they buried their deceased.

Shen was staring at the setting sun, adamantly refusing to focus on the ground in front of him. He wanted the receding solar glare to burn his retinas and blind him from the now darker world before him, the darker world that was his inevitable future, but -

The image of his three children in death had left a deeper mark. He could still see Pyke propped up against the wall, head bowed, blood still dripping from his mouth, his right arm around Poppy who was leaning on his side, covering the rift on her belly and still keeping her close to him, her small fingers still holding on to his bigger ones. His left hand was half-curled in Twitch’s nape, the rat’s head on Pyke’s thigh while the rest of his body lay limply on the floor, blades of different kinds sticking out of his form and the trail of blood at his feet meant that Pyke must’ve dragged him to their safe corner, to where Poppy had been waiting for them, the younger two too weak to move on their own and gods, _gods_ , that meant Pyke had to watch them die, had to sit there and listen to them breathe their last, had known regrets and self-loathing and mourning before he, too, succumbed and went after his siblings and -

When Pantheon and Shen found them in that corner, it had looked like the three were only sleeping, waiting for their stand-in parents to wake them up.

And here, Shen closed his storm gray eyes. Pyke, Twitch and Poppy had been Pantheon’s children too, and they were the second family the elder man had lost in his lifetime. Pantheon may have never voiced it, but the way he looked after the three younger members of his crew, the way he immediately leaped into their defense whenever the need to arose, the way he taught them what he knew…it was all patriarchal. The father in him had never left, even after he had gone childless for centuries.

It was Pantheon who told Shen to get up so that they could carry the bodies of their kids back with them to the ship. It was Pantheon who led the delirious Shen back to his quarters, making sure to tuck the other man in and to leave a glass of water on the bedside drawer. It was Pantheon who steered the Eboncleaver to Bandol, who delivered the news to Aster, who arranged for the burials and thanked the village elders.

“...how do you do it?” Shen suddenly asked. “How can you live through the pain of a parent who had to bury his children?”

He opened his eyes to the presence that had come to stand beside him. For the first time since they met, Shen saw what Pantheon looked like when haggard and tired, saw the dark circles under his golden eyes, the limp flop of his once spiky, fiery red hair, the miserable sag to his shoulders. Suddenly, the question seemed a bit too much.

“I…I don’t even know,” the elder man admitted, a wry smile pulling at his lips. “I don’t know how I kept living when it felt like I’d lost my heart. I don’t know what had me wandering aimlessly across Targo for decades.”

“Do you ever regret having your child?”

In the pause that followed, Shen wondered if his next query had offended his leader in some way. He looked away, and the rustle of movement next to him had the ex-officer admittedly tensing, awaiting a blow of reprimand. But it never came.

“Never,” was the reply, short and near silent yet bearing strength, and Shen finally looked to the space before him.

They were in the cemetery at the back of Knollhaven, a grassy area closed off by a stretch of wooden fence that had flowering vines clambering its height. It was simple and modest compared to the monuments and mausoleums of the Demaxian Empire’s coreworlds, but it still meant that the remaining two members of the Eboncleaver crew wouldn’t need to part with the ashes of their deceased. That fact brought them security, and the faintest sense of still being able to see their kids again.

Shen saw the three mounds in front of him, the three mounds Pantheon was crouching before. They were the most recent additions in the cemetery, still brown and earthy and lacking green blankets of grass, but someone had gone and planted flowers on them. Dawn lilies for the first and smallest one, Ocean’s Eyes for the middle mound, and deadly astrabanes for the last. They would be a beautiful sight once they were overgrown with grass, he thought, and even Twitch, who usually didn’t appreciate flora unless they possessed toxins he could utilize, would be pleased.

“I will never regret bringing my child into the universe, even if her life had been short,” Pantheon said, a hand coming to rest on the middle mound. “I’ll always remember the day she was born, the day she opened her eyes to life, up to the day the Dark Star closed them.”

He glanced over his shoulder and at Shen, his wry smile turning bittersweet.

“So I won’t ever regret taking Pyke in either, or allowing Twitch to stay with us, or recruiting Poppy. They brought me joy and life and love. And I will never forget my love for them. There are…some things worth losing your heart over.”

He made space when his companion walked up to settle next to him, both of them coming to sit on the soil and facing their beloved dead. Shen’s voice cracked over his next words.

"I…I will miss them. So much. I wish…I wish I had let them know how much I love them.” 

Seeing the other’s tears flowing anew made Pantheon blink through the sudden wetness in his own eyes, made him aware of the dull throb in his chest. He sighed and reached over, wrapping his arms around Shen and bringing him to lean against his front.

“They know, Shen,” he murmured, burying his nose in pitch black hair. “They know the same way you know they love you.”

 

~

 

“You’re leaving, huh?” Aster uttered as she walked into the living room of her nook, not quite a question yet not quite a statement either. 

Her two guests paused what they were doing, turning their attention to her, looking very much like two deer caught in the headlights. Ever since they were welcomed to the village, Poppy’s friends had learned to become more relaxed when in Knollhaven. It took some time and one more visit before they felt comfortable enough to leave their weapons behind in the nook when out exploring the village, save for the moments they went with the hunting parties. In that way, the four foreigners had become honorary members of the community.

So seeing Pantheon and Shen in their respective full gears meant something else. Aster spotted new additions as well. She recognized the hammer forming an ‘X’ with the spear on Pantheon’s back, and the collapsible, mechanized crossbow holstered to his right thigh. The set of daggers Shen had strapped to his lower back and attached to his belt were familiar too, the one looking like it was once the tooth of a space behemoth being the most prominent.

The bandoloid sighed. She already felt like twice her age.

“Honey, where are you two going?”

Shen looked away, and Aster knew that he still felt guilty about the death of their girl, about the deaths of all three of his juniors. So it was Pantheon who spoke up, turning to her.

“It isn’t your way, Aster, I know,” he started, his voice grim, near mechanical. “But me and Shen can’t let the deaths of our children go just like this. We’re leaving to seek retribution for them, so that they could rest peacefully.”

“From the blades that were…used, we know who killed them,” Shen added, one gloved hand closing into a fist, “and we will make him _pay_ for taking their lives so cruelly. We will not come back until we do so.”

The woman stared at them for a moment longer. The weight in her heart from losing her only child was still there, and she doubted it would go away anytime soon, or even ever. She broke eye contact with the elder of the two men to wipe away her stray tears. She was crying near constantly these days.

A part of her knew that the remaining members of Poppy’s crew also felt this grief, were still feeling it. The moment she first sat down and ate with them, she knew what their relationship with her daughter and Twitch and Pyke was.

So with her lavender-hued eyes still watery and puffy, she looked up at them and smiled sadly. She placed the bundle she had been carrying on the coffee table, pulling its ends from its center to reveal its contents. She heard Shen’s pained gasp and Pantheon’s one half-step back.

“I tried to wash these clean, but I don’t think I was able to get all the…dirt out,” she explained, chuckling weakly. “Guess they took on the stubbornness of their original wearers.”

Three items were in that bundle - one of the two purple ribbons that held Poppy’s pigtails up, the pair of goggles Twitch always wore even with the crack in one of the lenses, and the torn, dark gray bandanna that had once covered the lower half of Pyke’s face. She had done her best to get them cleaned up, but there were still dark spots on them where too much blood had seeped into the threads and stayed. She fiddled her fingers as she continued.

“We…we bandoloids have a tradition, you see? When a loved one dies, their immediate family gets to keep something they’ve always had on them, either an article of clothing or an accessory. It’s so that the deceased can guide their living relatives to better paths, paths only those above can see. I already have one of Poppy’s. You two can have the other and the rest.”

She watched as Shen made the first move, taking Poppy’s purple ribbon in one faintly trembling hand. His storm gray gaze stayed on it for a few silent minutes before he reached up and undid the knot keeping his ponytail together. Aster gaped slightly when he tied his hair back up again, this time with the ribbon serving him as it did with her daughter. He had taken Twitch’s goggles as well, huffing out a faint laugh as he paused to look at them.

“Those above?” he questioned, fixing the eyewear to the top of his head, where it sat snug among a few stray bangs. “None of us ever thought Twitch would end up in heaven. Not even himself.”

His statement brought a small smile to Pantheon’s face, the expression breaking his grim outer wall. He went for the only thing left on the table, gently rubbing his thumb on one part of the bandanna before he folded it diagonally in half and loosely tied it around his neck.

“Maybe hell will sort of be a heaven for the boy. Or maybe there’s a twisted version of it waiting for him. I know Pyke has his own heaven in mind,” he joked, the fingers of one hand still tracing the bandanna’s folds. “We aren’t heading on a better path, I’m afraid.”

Aster shook her head, chuckling. She stepped forward to hold one of their hands, Shen in her right and Pantheon in her left. She couldn’t stop herself from crying again.

“As if that ever stopped those three kids of yours in the first place,” she said, grinning through her tears. “I know they’ll follow you anywhere.”

“Pester,” Shen corrected, eyes misty as well. “Pester, not follow. They are always seeking that chance to piss me off.”

“Or embarrass you,” Pantheon added, something nostalgic and fond in his gaze, in the curve of his mouth. “I wouldn’t put it past them to do it even from beyond the grave.”

The three parents laughed, the sound aching and sad, yet possessing a little more cheer. The bandoloid among them took the hands in hers and brought them to each other, lacing their fingers together before letting them go.

“You two still have each other,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t think anything will keep you apart.”

Of course, she’d heard. Poppy couldn’t exactly keep it from her, and Pyke and Twitch jeered at Shen enough for it. Aster herself had been on the look out for when the two elders of the crew would finally hook up, at least in the times the Eboncleaver touched down on Bandol for a visit.

But she meant something deeper now, something that would help Pantheon and Shen through their time as grieving parents. She had the village to rely on, and while they had been accepted by the villagers, the two men could ever truly depend on each other.

So she didn’t interrupt when the ex-officer and his leader connected gazes, when they looked into each other’s eyes and listened to that unspoken something between them in the slow drip of three seconds. The joint hold of their hands tightened, their fingers intertwining even more, bringing them shoulder to shoulder, smile to growing smile.

Had Shen said what needed to be said through his eyes? Or had Pantheon figured it out?

“No,” it was Pantheon who replied after the silence. “I’m not letting anyone or anything take Shen from me. Not even his asshole of an ex .”

Well, that sounded as good as any confession. If anything, it brought a dusting of red to Shen’s cheeks.

“Z-Zed is not my ex. Ex-peer under Kusho perhaps, but nothing more,” he stuttered out, before he frowned. “Or he shall be ex- _living_ , once I am done with him.”

“ _We_ , Shen. Not ‘I’. We’ll send his ass to hell together. And I’m more than sure our kids would be pleased, wherever they are.”

It was strange. How death could change things, or at least bring them to the light.

Aster was content to just watch them in their strange flirt-dance, watch as the life returned to their eyes, as their shared grief was beginning to be relieved, little by little. They wouldn’t be free of it fully, not ever, but they had each other to remind them of what they still had.

She could visualize Pyke, Twitch and Poppy gathered around them, grinning as their Dad and Mom finally got together.

 

~

 

_Pyke couldn’t stop. Not when there was a godsdamned ninja-combat-master after them, hellbent on killing them all as a message for his former classmate. Twitch was barely breathing, not with all the blades Zed had stuck in him. The fucking rat just had to break out of stealth directly behind the Ordinal and try to shoot him at point blank range. What a fucking moron._

_A fucking heavy moron._

_The moment they entered the abandoned room, Pyke all but collapsed, his teammate deadweight on his back. He could only hope they’d gotten far away enough from that bloodthirsty bitch. From one corner of the room, a voice squeaked._

_“P-Pyke…? Is that…you?”_

_A part of him was horrified that Poppy was still alive after taking that hugeass shuriken to her gut._

_“Yeah…yeah. ‘S me,” he replied, forcing himself up so he could shut the door. “’S me, Pop.”_

_“You - urkk. You found…Twitch…?”_

_“I got ‘im…right here.”_

_He fell to one knee hard, feeling the adrenaline in him working through its final spurts. Gasping, fighting through his own pains, he placed a heavy hand on Twitch’s head, right between his ears._

_“Oi, pal. You…you still with us?”_

_He got a faint hum for a reply. He looked over his shoulder, gauging the distance between him and Poppy, knowing that he didn’t have the strength left to even lift Twitch to his back. He’d just die halfway through if he forced it._

_“Fuck.”_

_So he grabbed the fading rat by the undersides of his arms and muttered a quick apology before dragging him to the corner. It was hell on his shoulders, and it felt like his own arms would pop right off their sockets, but he staggered on, refusing to part with his younger teammates ever again. He had to try and protect them one more time._

_Twitch was silent throughout the whole process._

_Pyke only stopped when he reached Poppy, falling on his ass hard as his legs gave out from under him. He groaned as he pulled Twitch across that one last inch, making sure the rat’s head lay on his thigh. When that was done, he finally sat back against the wall, panting harder as his adrenaline levels crashed._

_“Brother…” he heard Poppy whisper beside him. “…brother…’m cold…”_

_It was a title the bandoloid used only when she was scared or delirious. Right now, she was most likely both._

_The man forced his arm to wrap around her small, trembling form and pull her close to him, letting her lean on his right side. It was his left one that had the fucking deep gash in it. He was distantly surprised his innards hadn’t fallen out of it when he made their escape._

_“I gotcha…lil’ sis…I gotcha,” he cooed, his ice blue eyes finding her through the haze in them, the haze that was beginning to thicken with each passing second. “Ain’t m-much…but you can have all’a it.”_

_“Other brother…where’s…other brother…?”_

_The response to her question was a wheeze. Pyke looked down at the source, frowning slightly. One blood red eye was staring back at him, its eyelid half-mast, the pair of goggles that usually covered it and its twin now around its owner’s neck. Twitch must’ve taken them off somewhere between now and…and then._

_Stars, it felt like such a long time ago. When the three of them volunteered for the mission while Panth and Shen went for another, only to find out it was a trap organized by Ordinal Zed of the Umbral Armada. When they faced down the fucker himself._

_A part of him ached for Panth and Shen._

_“Oi…oi,” he gasped, his left hand settling on his brother’s head, weakly stroking his gray, blood-splotched fur, just like how Twitch secretly liked. “Don’t…ya dare try ta…ta talk. Fuckin’…listen ta yer…big bro, ha?”_

_He saw the exposed side of the rat’s mouth spasm, the stupid bastard trying for a smirk one last time. Then his eyelid fluttered close, and Twitch stopped wheezing._

_Pyke heard someone sob. It took him a second to realize the sound came from himself._

_“I…m-miss…” Poppy murmured, pausing for too long a breath. “…miss Mama…and Mom…a-and Dad…”_

_He gritted his teeth against another sob threatening to break through. He let Poppy hold his other hand, her grip gradually going slack._

_“...I miss ‘em too, lil’ sis,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I miss ‘em too.”_

_And in his hold, his sister stilled too._

_He hated it. He hated that his siblings were dead before him, hated that he couldn’t protect them, not then, not now, not anymore. He said to himself before that no one in his family would ever go down again, not for as long as he still breathed. But he failed so fucking gloriously._

_What would Dad say? What would Mom think? Their eldest a failure of a protector, their middle and their youngest dead. How could Pyke ever face Panth and Shen after this? How would he be able to live with himself?_

_A harsh, grating chuckle escaped his throat, along with a trickle of blood. The answer was simple. He wasn’t going to make it through this._

_He had the endurance to last most things thrown at him, but the wound on his side was just too deep. Zed’s blade had torn through so much flesh and organ tissue that healing was only possible under medical supervision. It was far too fatal._

_And it was getting harder and harder to breathe. He could barely see anything now, could barely move his fingers or turn his head. He coughed another lungful of blood, splattering some on the bandanna dangling around his neck. Dad gave him that bandanna a long, long time ago…_

_Fuck. He should’ve been a better son, a better brother, a better man overall._

_He should…he should’ve let them know…_

_…let…them…know…_

(“This is not honorable of you, Shen,” Zed hissed, struggling to keep to his feet, helmeted head still reeling from the earlier bash via hammer. “You dare enlist the aid of another when this should solely be between you and me?”

His crimson eyes tracked his opponent’s movement. He had managed to break Equilibrium, the sword snapping into metal shards under his stronger blades, but Shen took it in stride, replacing Equilibrium with a familiar-looking dagger. His former blade-brother was pointing Stargaze at him, the metallic blue sword pulsing ora-gold light to an unknown beat, its owner’s storm gray eyes narrowed and turbulent.

“Who are you to speak of honor?” came the growling counter, stark even from behind a half battleguard. “You have proven yourself a monster the moment you killed my and Pantheon’s children.”

Zed blinked out of range, barely dodging the incoming volley of crossbow bolts. One was lucky enough to snag him in his left shoulder, piercing right through his armor and impaling the muscle underneath. He immediately pulled it out, but he could tell the toxin that laced its tip was beginning its work. He focused his gaze on the man with the bright red hair, the man with the full battleguard and the dark gray bandanna, watching as he put his crossbow away and armed himself with his spear and his hammer.

“And in that moment, it wasn’t just between you and Shen,” the man, the one they called Pantheon, added, his words like frostbite inching its way up Zed’s spine. “No. When you killed the kids, it became my business too.”

He twirled both of his weapons once before settling into a fighting stance.

“You’ve pissed off their parents, asshole. Man the fuck up and reap what you sow.”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *kicks self in the ass*


End file.
